Darwin's Plight
by tomatoxstrawberry
Summary: Ophelia Darwin never meant to involve herself with Tom Riddle-it just sort of happened. Tom Riddle could have probably said the same. How long does it take for one to wake up and realize your greatest fear was not a monster that went bump at night, but the person who casually bullied you into doing their history homework?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment. Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think.

* * *

 **1938, King's Cross Station**

Ophelia Darwin looked with full disbelief at her grandfather, only before she turned her head to see the sturdy pillar for bricks off to the side. "But I don't want to run and crash into the wall," she muttered politely as she could to the old man with her mother and father present.

"You won't crash into it," Gregory Darwin urged the child, "I promise you won't." The old man had now considered pushing his granddaughter into the pillar himself, but figured his daughter-in-law would not be very displeased with him. "I can't believe you aren't excited, Ophelia! I could hardly contain myself when I got my letter from Hogwarts."

"Yes, well, not everyone has your…" Wendy Darwin was at a loss for words to pleasantly describe her father-in-law's behavior, "your boldness."

Ophelia's eyes strayed off to her father, "I don't know anything about magic." Her voice was sullen and serious. "What if I'm not _good_ at it-or worse," the child's dull green eyes widened, "what if I'm not even _average_ at it."

Ben Darwin clasped a hand on his daughter's shoulders, he deeply wished he could tell her about how great being a wizard was and how much fun Hogwarts could be. Though when you're a squib-Hogwarts was something more you heard about-not a personal experience. "Then work hard to be good." Ben's voice was firm and soft, "Pipa, at least give Hogwarts and magic a chance, eh?"

The child was about to open her mouth to shoot back a retort she found justifiable in her mind, only to be cut off by her father.

"The year Poppa accidentally brought back a pixie from a trip with his wizarding buddies does not count, Pipa." The main provider of the Darwin household shoved his daughter as gently as he could towards the sturdy pillar between platforms nine and ten.

"Ben," his wife warned, "don't push her."

Poppa added a different set of advice for his son. "Push her faster, or she'll miss the train!"

Ophelia's mouth pulled into a semi-pout. It didn't seem like things were going to the way she wanted them to and by the end of the day: Ophelia would be attending a new school, with new people, in practically a new world far different than what she knew.

"I'll write often," The child said as she leaned in to hug her parents.

"Not too often, Pipa," Wendy said as pulled she away from her daughter, "it might make me think you're not making friends."

Ben rolled his eyes at his wife statement. For a muggle who prompted herself to be a woman of medicine and science, she was all too eager for their daughter to make friends with other witches, wizards, and all the other creatures in that world of magic. Both Ophelia and her father knew her mother meant well.

"Remember," Poppa started when she went to hug him next, "your first year will be a breeze." The old man planted a kiss at the top of her head, "Especially now since I've told you pretty much all I know for the first year."

Ophelia pulled away from the embrace with a smaller pout and replaced it with a small, smile; she walked into the pillar. Much to her surprise, she actually did step through. Not one to take the scenery in when tardy, she rushed straight to the train and hoped she could find at least a relatively quiet compartment to hide in.

"Excuse me, can I sit here with you?" Ophelia was nearly towards the end of the train before she found a compartment that wasn't either stuffed with students or loud. She felt lucky that finally there was a compartment that was quiet.

The boy she directed her question to looked away from the train window and tossed a lazy glance over; he couldn't have been older than her but something about him seemed older in her view.

"No," was the boy's curt reply. He looked incredibly smug for someone Ophelia knew was probably the same age as her.

"There's nowhere else," Ophelia reasoned with the boy, she took note of his black hair and pale skin. "All the other compartments are loud or overflowed with students." She moved into the compartment anyways and slid the door shut. _How rude,_ she muttered in her head.

The boy's brown eyes bored into her green ones as she sat down opposite of him. "I'll curse you," his tone was even and confident, and once again: smug.

 _All over a silly train compartment?_

A quick twinge of fear shook her body before Ophelia remembered something. The fear was replaced with confusion. "Curse me, what do you mean curse me?" Her eyebrows furrowed together, "You can't possibly know any curses...we don't learn those in our first year." Of all the things Poppa had told her about the first year of attending Hogwarts, learning about curses was definitely not one of them.

It was the boy's turn to furrow his eyebrows at her. "What?" A slight flare of irritation lit up his face for a brief second before becoming blank. "Then what will we be learning?"

Ophelia felt a form of sadness for the boy...she couldn't place her finger on it but he seemed _off_ in a way.

 _Didn't he have someone to tell him what to expect?_

"You were speaking a moment ago," the boy seemed irritated, "what will we be learning?"

Ophelia Darwin told this demanding little boy everything her Poppa told her; word for word and in detail. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he processed the information that flew out of her mouth carefully; eventually the girl even told him what she knew about the wizarding world as well. Even if it was something she knew barely anything about.

As soon as she finished explaining everything she knew; he stood up silently and left the compartment. Leaving her alone to slowly realize the train had stopped moving and right outside the train-there stood Hogwarts.

While the rest of the evening moved like a blur to little Ophelia, two things stuck themselves into her memory.

The first thing she experienced was the delayed feeling of excitement of being in Hogwarts; she had been dreading it all summer, and even most of that day until she finally stepped foot into the world of magic. Then when the sorting hat screamed out of " **Hufflepuff"** , a small part of Ophelia knew that she would be fine.

The second thing that would stick with her was the boy who she met on the train; she hadn't realize that neither one of them gave out their names to each other until he was called up to be sorted in a house. Tom Riddle was his name, a Slytherin student who somehow made a bigger part of Ophelia feel nervous.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment. Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think.

* * *

 _ **1939-1940**_

The second year had only begun literally three months ago, and Ophelia could not believe the amount of work that had to be done for herbology. She expected potions or even the history of magic to require more research and paperwork and be the most time consuming, but no, it had to be herbology.

To make matters a little worse, her newer copy of ' _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'_ was nowhere as helpful to her as the older copy Poppa gave her. The difference: the former young Gryffindor student had wonderfully helpful notes scribbled of his own in the older copy...though for one reason or another she felt very generous and lent it to a pain in the arse classmate, and now she suffered the consequences.

 _I knew I shouldn't have waited till the last minute!_ Her hand cramped as she continued to power through her study session; the Hufflepuff student decided to make sure that the next time any herbology assignment would be done the day it was handed to her. Another mental note was etched into her head to ask Poppa what he knew of Mandrakes.

"You know," said an arrogant voice as it broke Ophelia's concentration, "I am surprised that for all the work you do, you're not a Ravenclaw."

The Hufflepuff student sighed, put her quill down in a tense manner, and tucked her chocolate brown hair behind her right ear before acknowledging the Slytherin student in front of her. It was sort of her 'count to ten' technique when he'd find time to antagonize her.

"Riddle," The brunette stated as her green eyes lazily looked up at him. "How may I help you today?" While she wasn't exactly sincere with her question, she was only half way irritated with the boy. Ophelia's head was too fried from studying to even really process anything but irritation at the moment.

In a quick manner Tom dropped a worn out and dull copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration._ Not at all caring that the old textbook made a deep noise that echoed in the library; not caring at all that Ophelia deeply hated the sound of heavy books hitting table tops.

"Your grandfather's notes were quite useful," Tom told her, "I wasn't expecting to be granted a cheat sheet for transfiguration."

A small smile pulled at Ophelia's lips; that was the closest thing he'd ever give her as a thank you. "Are you almost done with Poppa's copy of Magical Herbs and Fungi?" Ophelia gestured to her parchment of notes as she spoke, "I really need it back sometime tonight, you see-."

A disgusting little smirk came on the second year boy's face and he arched up one perfectly dark eyebrow at her as he interrupted the sentence. "Is that right, Darwin," he mocked as he noticed Ophelia's neat handwriting and limited notes of Mandrakes. "I'm sorry but, no, I think I'll need it for a little while longer."

Before Ophelia could say anything else (good or bad) to reason with Tom Riddle to return _**her**_ own book back, he already was quietly making his way out of the library. Small beads of tears collected at the corner of her eyes from her frustration.

 _What a complete arse_ , Ophelia thought as she went back to her notes. She was definitely planned to write to Poppa, specifically about all things herbology related.

* * *

 _ **1940-1941**_

"Margo," Ophelia laughed since she absolutely could not come to grips with her friend's crazy pure-blooded family and their sudden fascination with muggle technology. "You cannot be serious?"

"Oh, but I am!" The girl with deep blue eyes, and pure blonde hair which reached up to her mid-back screamed. "I don't know how you manage all those appliances, Pipa!" Margo Blaine turned her head to another member sitting in the same compartment, "Did you know they have a device that does your laundry for you," Margo whispered lowly to the boy who sat across from them. "They call it a washing machine, but Merlin, I have no idea how they get it to work!"

"Careful now," a boy with ashy brown, shortly cropped hair and gray eyes teased, "Pipa might mock you and tell you that there is even a machine that dries the clothes too." Peter, who like Margo did not grow up in a household with 'muggle devices' also came from a pure-blooded family that had no clue that there indeed was a machine made for drying clothes.

"Oh," Ophelia smiled wholeheartedly,it was only a small bit smug, "but there is a machine that does that."

A gasp came out of Margo's mouth as she put her hand over her heart, while Peter's eyes widened with slight surprise.

 _Maybe I should tell them about jukeboxes and television,_ she half joked to herself. _No,_ she thought with glee. _I'll tell them about Frank Sinatra, they'd love him!_

The compartment door slid opened before Ophelia could share her fondness of Frank with her fellow Hufflepuffs.

"Tom," Margo beamed at the boy who peeked into their compartment; she even flashed a smile that could have blinded a dragon. Peter Elwood rolled his eyes at Margo's display, annoyed that his childhood friend greeted almost every male member of human species that way.

Ophelia pretended that was Tom Riddle didn't even open the compartment. If he would have waited at least forty-five more minutes before barging in she wouldn't have minded...or longer, because forty-five minutes was not enough to talk about to Frank Sinatra (at least, in her head.)

Tom zeroed in on Ophelia; he made it clear last year before they'd left for the summer she was to come into his compartment and fill him in on what was to be expected of their third year and trade off some books that would be of great use to him. He was more than angry when he entered his usual train compartment and only saw his Slytherin followers.

"Miss Darwin," Tom said in smooth and silky voice, "Could I please speak with you for a minute."

Ophelia casted a side glance at the third year boy, his facade only extended to her when there were other students around. "Oh, but Mr. Riddle," Ophelia's overly polite tune sounded like a song, as she tried to mock Tom's fake pleasantries towards her, "we were having the nicest conversation just now. I'd hate to leave my friends."

A menacing flash appeared in eyes, but Tom Riddle kept his composure, "Don't make me ask again, _please_ , Miss Darwin?" Surprisingly, those words still sounded cool and charming and not at all like a dreadful warning.

 _Fine._

Ophelia stood up and gently smoothed out her uniform before grabbing an older copy of _Ancient Runes Made Easy_ and _Intermediate Transfiguration_. "I might be back," Ophelia said to her friends with a small pout on her face as she stepped out to talk with Tom, she made sure to slide the door shut as she left.

Not many students were wandering up and down the hallways of the Hogwarts Express: Tom didn't have to pretend to nice, or charming to Ophelia.

"The books," Ophelia stated as she held out the books for him to take. "Like all the rest, Poppa's handwriting is all over it."

The Slytherin boy snatched them out of her hands and placed the two books securely under his left arm; his lips were pressed into a thin line and his brown eyes had an odd tint of red in them.

Ophelia started notice that more about Tom: his eyes and his lips...she started to actually notice he was quite handsome and felt ashamed for that thought.

 _Handsome yet…._ Ophelia couldn't think of a word to describe Tom. _..mean? Handsome and mean?_

"So," Tom snapped at her in a low voice, "why weren't you in the compartment?" He saw the obvious look of guilt on the girl's face, "I told you right before you left to see your family." Tom nearly spat the last word out with venom.

"I don't like sitting with your friends," Ophelia retorted trying not to raise her voice; everyone knew the boys who hung out with Tom could make bad things happen to people if they so pleased. The last thing she needed was to be bothered with more Slytherin boys. "They're vulgar, I don't enjoy the way Lestrange looks at me, and I do not enjoy your conversations on muggles being useless, dirty, and weak." Ophelia's green eyes locked onto Tom's deep brown ones-the tint of red around his eyes gone for the moment, "In case you haven't noticed-they're not a good bunch to be around, Riddle...you honestly can't believe they're truly your friends...can you?"

It didn't matter that Ophelia was sincere when she spoke to Tom; he took it as disgusting pity and he didn't need pity from a child of a squib and a muggle.

"What makes you think I care if they're really my friends or not, Darwin." Tom scoffed, looking down at the dejected Hufflepuff female. "They serve a purpose to me, just like you do as well."

A weird, painful, bubbly sensation happened in her body , and made it feel like her gut relocated to the floor. Ophelia knew Tom and her weren't friends...but she thought they were at the very least, strained acquaintances of some kind.

"Right…" Ophelia knew she already displayed the thought or displayed even the feeling that there was something between her and Tom. "My mistake."

 _My mistake indeed!_

In the end, Ophelia ended in Tom Riddle's train compartment with a bunch of Slytherin pure-bloods; as the other boys had their conversation about their boring and horrid families and summer, her and Tom had theirs about the expectancy of the third year.

She felt Lestrange's eyes roam over her body in the middle of explaining to Tom that third years were to study magical creatures. Ophelia tried not pause as she spoke to him, she even tried not to let Lestrange know she felt his gaze, so as subtly as she could, Ophelia drew out her wand in order to charm her skirt to a longer length.

A cold hand placed itself firmly over Ophelia's and forced her wand down to the cushioned seats of the compartment. Tom merely placed a hard and stony glare in Lestrange's direction and with that, the Hufflepuff girl never caught or felt Lestrange's eyes on her for the rest of the school year.

* * *

 _ **1941-1942**_

"Due to a terrible fight between Slytherin and Gryffindor houses over a game of Quidditch, we will be switching some of the class combinations for you fourth years. As you can see," Professor Dumbledore stated as he looked carefully at his current transfigurations students "we thought it would be appropriate to pair the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs together for the time being."

Margo nudged Ophelia and indiscreetly point to the table where Tom and his 'gang' members sat; without a doubt Margo's pointed caught Tom and the other's attention. Ophelia kept her eyes glued on Albus Dumbledore intently, she didn't want to look at Tom at all, she knew very well a self-indulgent, smug, over-confident smirk would be painted on his thin lips all plastered his damn perfect and damn handsome face.

 _Merlin, damn him,_ she thought as she began to listen to Dumbledore's lecture for the day.

This was the year Ophelia would distance herself from Tom Riddle, the cruel boy who made it clear to her last year, she was just a type of resource of his to use and _still_ tried to use her...and to be honest, he succeeded still.

"Before I continue on with the lesson, could someone correctly show me the wand movement for a switching spell," Dumbledore scanned the room and smiled in Ophelia's direction. Her right hand slowly crept over to grip her wand.

"Miss Blaine," the man with crescent moon spectacles kindly called out, "would you please show us how it's done?"

 _Wow,_ Ophelia thought with a small sense of happiness spreading through her body, _lucky me._

"I'm sorry sir," Margo whispered quietly, "but I'm not too sure I know that spell." The platinum blonde girl quickly kicked her voice to a higher volume as soon as a good idea popped into her head. "Though, Pipa-uh, I mean, Miss Darwin might know the correct wand movement, sir!"

 _Margo, no!_

Ophelia did her best not to shoot a dirty look at Margo, a couple of rows away she actually heard Peter try to hold back a laugh.

Albus Dumbledore, the main professor of transfiguration only looked at Ophelia and gestured a hand out. A signal that meant he wanted her to try.

She picked up her wand and tried to focus on two random objects in the room, just in case she could get the wand movement right-she wanted to be sure she had something to switch out. Ophelia allowed herself to look over at Tom's direction.

His face was blank; waiting to see if she was even competent over a simple spell...Her green eyes settled on the wand in his hand...maybe she could switch that out with her bottle of ink.

With a careful flick of the wrist and an even more careful pronunciation for the actual spell: much to her surprise-it worked.

Tom's wand was now where her bottle of ink had been, and a full bottle of ink was indeed, in the Slytherin boy's hand as well.

"That was a lovely execution," Dumbledore noted as he lifted his wand up to return the items to their rightful owners. "Five points to Hufflepuff."

Ophelia gazed over to Tom as the members of her house cheered for a quick moment; it was her turn to be smug and arrogant just a split second...Though for a moment, she almost swore Tom looked close to impressed with her as he twirled his wand in a slow motion...a notion she was sure she'd made up in her head.

It was only a simple switching spell, nothing to be impressed by.

* * *

 _ **1942-1943**_

"Margo," Ophelia screamed at the top of her lungs as she jumped on her friend's bed, completely excited over the fact that she'd be leaving for summer _early._

"You're wrinkling the satin sheets, Pipa," Margo half-heartedly scolded as she ate a chocolate frog; crumbs fell around the Blaine girl as she watched her dear Ophelia finally show any other emotion that wasn't overwhelming stress.

Ophelia's shoulder length brown hair flew wildly in the air as she proceeded to get on her knees and bounce on Margo's pale, pink satin sheets; they wrinkled only slightly , while chocolate crumbs jumbled around the bed.

"I take it then, that your final exams were easy ," Margo asked as soon as the brunette finally laid down on the edge of the bed.

A forced laugh flew from Ophelia's mouth, "No, they were bloody terrible and I hated every second, minute, and hour of those tests! I'm just glad I get to leave an extra week early!"

Her heart and the rest of her body could hardly stop moving so fast. Her Poppa had plans to meet up with some old wizarding buddies of his and this summer would be the first time Ophelia would be able to accompany him for a month long reunion trip.

How Poppa got mother to even agree to let Ophelia spend one month in the wizarding world was beyond her-but at the moment she really didn't care. Or even how Armando Dippet agreed to allow her to take her finals early was something to ponder on...oh well, Ophelia didn't quite care about that either at the moment.

"I hope you know that while you are extremely excited- _I_ still have to take finals, and you've doomed me to study with Peter." Margo huffed, "I don't see why you're so excited to have a month here...I was hoping you'd return home to the muggle world so I could see all the sites with you and meet the King and Queen of England!"

"Well," Ophelia offered, "we could meet up later on in the summer and do that."

Margo only took a big bite out of her chocolate frog, "I can't later, my parents and the rest of the Blaine family will be doing our usual summer round up with Peter's family."

The brunette fifth-year tried to pretend she was deaf to her friend's sulking. "That sounds lovely-."

"It's dull."

Ophelia was far into a good mood to even argue that spending time with the a bunch of relatives and older people with solid poles up their arse might be fun. "Have Peter take you then," She mused to her friend, "pretend to be absolute muggles for a day and keep it a secret for the rest of your lives."

The chocolate frog in Margo's hand fell down to the floor of the girl's dormitory as soon as Ophelia suggested the idea; quickly, the blonde fifth year smoothed out her uniform and robes before her feet rushed off to the Quidditch pitch to hunt down the one and only Peter Elwood.

This year, had been a terrible one for all students in Hogwarts...The only one who seemed in a good mood was Tom. The death of Myrtle Warren..the expulsion of a Gryffindor student...Hogwarts almost shutting down...It had been a very terrible year.

Ophelia could not believe and thank her lucky stars enough at the mere fact that she was still alive in both the worlds she occupied.

By five o'clock in the evening, she'd be in Hogsmeade to meet Poppa and her summer could really start.

Nothing could bother or ruin her mood, not even the Slytherin boy who for one reason or another found one of his resources as he called her, had gone missing later that evening...By the time Tom had found out a certain Hufflepuff would be unavailable for the little remaining days left, he wished he was able to curse her the first day they'd met as children.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment. Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think.

* * *

 _ **September 22, 1943**_

Tom Riddle had left Hogwarts the previous year irritated enough as it was when a certain Hufflepuff with brown hair, green eyes, and hardly any retention of their routine, apparently left a week before him for summer. Add the fact that the sixth year for both him and her started two weeks ago and there still had been no sign of that specific 'her'- Tom wondered and at this point hoped Ophelia was dead in a ditch somewhere.

"My lord," Nott whispered carefully to the leader of their group, he tried to be as quiet as his rough voice could allow without being scolded by the librarian. "When will the next meeting be held? I might have found new followers who seem interested in your cause."

Usually this would have been wonderful news to the terror of a young man...but usually, this young man wasn't trying to catch up on the mundane work of the history of magic. "Nott," Tom Riddle whispered dangerously to the pure-blooded idiot, "who gave you permission to find new followers at the moment because I am sure I didn't."

Graham Nott turned pale as a violent red tinted his lord's eyes. "No," he muttered, you didn't give me any-."

"Exactly, Nott." Tom hissed back, "sit down and be quiet, or I will make it so you are quiet for the rest of your life."

Nott paled at those very words, and not once after that did he even breathe loudly in his lord's presence.

A small part Tom would rather die in every way possible before he would ever admit how Ophelia was actually a small bit helpful. When her grandfather's books finally stopped being of use to him (and her, but he couldn't care less about that)-her notes were _almost_ better than his. The cruel sixth year figured it had to do with how dense she was, and that is why she took extremely detailed notes on everything and anything.

It was Ophelia Darwin's fault he was in the library reading a section of the history of magic instead of putting his brains to something more important like the dark arts...She broke their routine and triggered a feeling the boy could only describe as unsettling and unbelievably aggravating.

"Damn _filthy_ witch," Tom muttered as he snapped his book shut and headed towards the Slytherin common rooms. He was done with dull history book and the wizards of old that crowded it from front to back. They would be nothing compared to him...If he could only shove studies away long enough to get what he wanted accomplished!

* * *

On the opposite side of Hogwarts, Ophelia Darwin smiled at the grand castle. Her uniform and robes ironed, her wand lounged somewhere in the pockets of her robes, her mousy brown hair: flat and straight as ever was styled with a pale grey hair band, and on her feet a new pair of one inch heeled loafers which shade reminded her of daffodils (her mother's last minute gift for the new term). A folder was tightly held against her chest as she ventured to Dumbledore's office.

 _I'll have to meet up with Margo and Peter shortly after,_ Ophelia reminded herself as knocked on the professor's door.

"Miss Darwin," the wizard greeted warmly as he allowed her into his office. "Nice to see you are back."

"Nice to be back," Ophelia replied without missing a beat and promptly placed the folder on his desk. "I believe these are the assignments I had to complete during the two weeks I was absent."

Her smile faded away a little and the older gentleman noticed.

He reached for a glass bowl that sat pristinely on his desk, "would you care for some lemon sherbert?"

The Hufflepuff sixth year politely declined, "I haven't even had dinner first, Professor. Maybe next time?"

"Very well," Dumbledore hummed on. "I take it the move and everything went well?"

Ophelia nodded, the transfigurations professor gave her a small smile but said nothing.

"Thank you," she said evenly, "for getting the other professors and Dippet to get on board to let me work from home for a while."

A little twinkle flickered in the man's eyes. "Well," he started off, "it would have been a shame for you to come back and struggle in your classes, Miss Darwin."

Ophelia stated one more sentence of appreciation for Dumbledore and made her way to the dining hall.

Margo was the first one to spot Ophelia and in a totally proper way to let Peter know their friend was back: Margo gave out a scream that could have made a Mandrake pass out. Margo's scream caught the attention of the Slytherin table; a blonde Abraxas Malfoy looked over to see what the commotion was all about. He quickly leapt up from the table (somehow he managed to look refined while doing that) and marched to the Slytherin common rooms.

"Oh, Merlin," Ophelia winced as both Margo and Peter pulled her into a bone crushing hug. "Margo, could you possibly be part banshee?"

"Shut up and love me, you daft girl," was all Margo said in reply.

"Oh, Pipa," Peter faked a cry as he hugged both girls tighter. "You have no idea how hard it's been...being stuck with Margo all summer and the first few weeks of the term."

Ophelia giggled as they pulled away and settled down at the table for dinner. She promptly filled them in on how the move from London to West Berkshire went.

Margo put a dainty hand over Ophelia's and patted it softly, "I am just so relieved you and your family were safe."

Peter only nodded, Ophelia was his friend just as much as she was Margo but he knew his childhood friend would have gone completely off her rocker if Ophelia never came back to them. He wouldn't have been able to help Margo had she sunk that low.

The brunette sighed, "I am lucky Poppa was able to use such a strong shield charm." A quick flash of what Ophelia had experienced in her mind replayed itself. "I really must thank my lucky stars, if I still have any left."

"Speaking of stars, Pipa," Peter murmured as best as he could as his eyes drifted to the doors of the dining hall. "Looks like one is coming directly towards you."

 _What?_ Ophelia turned her head to the doors; while Margo stood up from her spot at the table completely to see what was heading their way. Ophelia's eyes widened up at the sight.

"Miss Darwin," the young Slytherin greeted, "how nice to see you again."

Ophelia felt little pricks at the bottom of her stomach and her palms began to feel all clammy, "Riddle."

"You missed our traditional train ride to Hogwarts, Darwin," Tom stated as evenly as he could. He knew that the Hufflepuff he directed his voice to could feel the deeply rooted irritation that burned in him as he looked at her. "I was so hurt," Tom Riddle paused for effect and did his best to pull of a genuinely worried face, "I thought something had happened to you."

"Oh how sweet," Margo whispered to herself before casting a dirty look at Peter, who only became shocked at the sudden dirty look the blonde pure-blooded girl had given him.

Ophelia ignored Margo and Peter altogether as she tried not to let Tom sense her heart violently beat against her chest. "Nope," Ophelia stated, not bothering to sound as charming as he did. "I am fine and in one piece as you can see." Her voice quivered as Tom's gaze on her intensified, "Thanks for the concern."

 _The thought that Tom only pretended to be concerned about anyone but himself is extremely unsettling...Imagine if he even could care about someone else?_ Ophelia felt chills along her body just at that thought.

As if he was reading her mind; the ugly and arrogant smirk Ophelia knew so well painted itself on the pale teen's handsome face. "I really was so worried about you."

Ophelia felt a snooty reply bubble in her head before she expressed it out loud, "I'll write a letter next time-that way you won't be so worried." She flashed him a fake smile, "Would that be to your liking Mr. Riddle."

"No."

Margo gasped, Ophelia blinked rapidly at the reply, and Peter who lost interest a few seconds ago continued to eat.

In one swift movement, Tom reached for one of Ophelia's hand and squeezed it as tightly as he could while trying to be cool and charming to any other Hogwart student who watched them. "What would be to my liking, _**Miss Darwin**_ , is if you graced me with a few minutes of your time."

In one fluid motion the Slytherin prefect drew Ophelia's hand farther out and managed to drag her away from her friends, out of the dining hall, and to the closest secluded corner he could find. Ophelia didn't have the courage or time to protest against Tom-and what would have been the point-he'd easily invalidate anything she'd say.

"Where have you been," Tom asked in a low growl as he pushed her hand away from him as quickly as he could. He didn't want to make himself anymore of a spectacle than he had to and there was no one he had to keep his polite and perfect charade with. Since their first year, when they'd met, Tom realized that it was no use to redo a first impression for Ophelia.

Ophelia carefully examined the hand Tom had gripped so terribly tight; she prayed no bruise would show up. "I had…" Ophelia looked him in the eyes, "My family and I had to move from London at the last minute."

Tom narrowed his eyes, "Why?" The teenage boy considered using Legilimency if she took any longer to speak.

Ophelia absentmindedly started to twirl her hair in between her fingers, it was an attempt not to get too deep into the memory. "A bomb dropped near our home in London," The Hufflepuff's voice was shaky and chills ran up and down her spine, "Poppa used three different shield charms to prevent as much damage as he could… We were all fine but the house didn't quite hold up even with his magic." A tired sigh then escaped her lips as she recalled the tedious task of moving and rearranging everything in the new house in West Berkshire(her father deemed it absolutely necessary that they left London), "I just had a lot to help with before I came back."

The boy, who expected a much more swallow answer from the girl only gave a condescending glare before he opened his mouth. "Here I hoped you were off dead in a ditch somewhere."

Ophelia never did expect anytime of sympathy or real kindness from Tom, but those words caused a dull ache throughout her whole being. "Unfortunately," she muttered as they made strong eye contact, "against your hopes, I live."

A small wave of familiarity crashed on Tom Riddle and he allowed himself to flash a smile at his fellow student, whom of which he enjoyed exercising her like a lowly secretary or resource to be used repeatedly.

"How far along are you in the history of magic, Darwin?" His voice was a perfect mixture of arrogant and smooth; the Slytherin prefect already knew how the Hufflepuff student would react and he found it... _amusing._ It had been the same since he latched onto her their second year of Hogwarts when he deemed Ophelia suitable enough as a source of _some_ intellect.

He watched as Ophelia tucked a small strand of hair behind her right ear and let a small, defeated sigh out of her mouth. "How may I help you today?"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment. Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think.

* * *

 _September 24, 1943_

Students rushed the halls to get to their classes at different paces. Gryffindor students were usually very merry and loud as they roamed into their classes: Ophelia noted they came in packs of three or five in many cases which was probably why they were so loud. Ravenclaw students power walked to all their classes with an air of urgency than excitement and would sometimes have thick textbooks that could have sustained heat for a muggle family for a whole winter. Her fellow Hufflepuffs, while not as loud as the Gryffindors, could be spotted laughing and chatting as they walked in a calm manner towards their classes.

Ophelia absentmindedly continued to look on at the students of Hogwarts as they all wondered to either their classes or to a spot of their own choices to skip their classes…and Ophelia was perfectly happy on the stone bench she sat on while her herbology book remained ignored. She was supposed to looking over her herbology notes, a vague reminder that a test of magical fungi echoed in the back of her mind but she could not find it in her to really care.

Besides, Ophelia had an arrangement to meet with someone.

A glint of green strewn onto a random student's robe caught her eyes... _Slytherin,_ she thought as a group of four students calmly walked, with an arrogant step off and away from her sight. _Cocky, rude, and overly confident._

Malfoy, Nott, Lestrange, and Avery were all so poised as the roamed down the halls. Their arrogance in their walk translated to grace and stature in the pure blood world of wizards, or at least, that is what Margo said. All boys continued down the hall, but one broke off from the group without a word and sauntered over towards her direction: Nott.

In one swift movement, Ophelia grabbed the formerly ignored herbology book carelessly by its spine and began her walk towards Nott. Dull green eyes scanned around the setting before the owner of said eyes, broke out a crooked, half smile.

"Graham," the Hufflepuff politely chimed to the Slytherin.

"Ophelia," the Slytherin greeted back softly. Graham Nott might not have been the most handsome student on campus, but Ophelia had to admit, he was rather lovely to look at on top of being the more... _tolerable_ one of Tom's followers. His deep brown hair was kept short on the sides: it made him look constantly presentable. Graham had hazel eyes, fair skin, a perfect English nose, and chin that could only be found on a statue of a Greek god. Ophelia believed he was also one of the beaters for the Slytherin's Quidditch team, since what other reason did he need to have such defined shoulders and strong upper muscles for?

"Skipping class, I see." Graham noted casually. Gently he took the herbology book out of the girl's hand, opened it, skimmed through the text, and smirked at tiny scribbles of the Hufflepuff's handwriting that crowded the texts. "Are you unable to afford a journal or parchment paper to write your scribble scratch for herbology?"

Ophelia rolled her eyes at the boy and snatched the book away from him, a coy smile played at her lips; Nott's last sentence didn't phase her the slightest. Had he been Malfoy or Avery (or Tom even) it would have stung her ego in one way or another. As for Lestrange...Ophelia wouldn't even make the awkward mistake of letting herself say much of anything to him.

"Even if I was truly unable to afford parchment paper-I am still strongly certain-you'd want my notes, Graham." She placed the book behind her back, and gripped it using both hands, her black robes wrinkled slightly at the sudden movement. So badly she wanted to say: ' _Maybe for a kiss on the cheek, you can borrow them.'_ He was a pure blood and she wasn't-Ophelia knew better.

"May I please borrow your herbology notes, Ophelia?" Graham Nott elegantly placed his palm up to her, and gave her a ghost of a girn.

 _Not even a full smile_ , she thought sullenly as she brought the book out from behind her back.

"Ahem."

Nott quickly moved his hand away from Ophelia and stepped back from her before he snapped his head to the right. "My-oh, um-Riddle," he stuttered.

Ophelia arched an eyebrow at Nott's sudden clumsiness with his words, but she too turned her head to acknowledge the other sixth year student. "Riddle."

The Slytherin prefect ignored his lackey, all it took was a curt wave of Tom's hand to signal he wanted the pure blooded boy gone. So Nott took off, quietly and without protest. Tom stepped closer to Ophelia than Graham had been; they were no more than three inches apart. The Hufflepuff looked up at the mean, young man in his brown eyes: he hated when she looked at the ground or else where when he spoke to her.

"Have you been here this whole time?" He sounded bitter as he hissed irritably at Ophelia. "I told you I needed you-."

"In the library after I was done with Runes." Ophelia sighed as she tucked her herbology book under her arm and continued to look at Tom. The corner of his mouth curled downward into a disgusted frown, but with how symmetric his face was: it didn't make him look on bit horrid. "Nott came up to me the other day and asked me to come here as well, you see-."

A genuine look of disdain flashed on Tom's face. "Darwin," he started off, "What in the bloody hell makes you think I care about what Nott asked you to do?"

"Well," she started, "I thought you wanted your fellow house members to get good marks on their subjects?"

A cruel reply quickly fired out of the Slytherin's mouth. "Yes, good, _**Ophelia**_." Tom mocked as one of his hands grabbed at her wrist tightly, "Not subpar marks." He began to lead her to the library.

A small piece of the Hufflepuff's ego stung at those words as she fell into step with the prefect of Slytherin; his gripped loosened slightly.

"If my marks are subpar," she started, "then please tell me why won't you actually get a Ravenclaw to help you with your research?"

By now Tom's hand was completely off of her wrist; he ignored her question. So in her head, her pretended there was an answer inside the tempestuous mind of Tom Riddle that went along the lines of: _'Because, Darwin, you're such a good help!'_ She trailed behind him in the library.

"Darwin, here." Tom stated as he pulled out two books from a tall shelf and handed them to her. "Look through those."

Ophelia, took the books and cradled them along with her Herbology book, "A please or thank you every now and again wouldn't hurt, you know."

"Now, _**Ophelia.**_ " Tom looked at the sixth year girl from over his shoulder, she was studying the titles of the book. A pensive glow came to her eyes. The Slytherin took a step closer to her as she began to flip through the pages of the first book; her pensive glow was started to turn into confusion as one of her eyebrows arched up on her face. Tom found that expression rather amusing and couldn't help but snicker at her.

The words of the first book she looked through, gave her the ingredients and procedures on how to create a stillborn potion for an unfaithful wife. A topic no student in Hogwarts should ever know at the current moment.

Ophelia snapped her head up at Tom, and placed the book against the young boy's chest. "We shouldn't have access to this!" A panicked look overcame her features, "This belongs in the restricted area."

He blinked apathetically, as if she had suggested the most idiotic thing. "No," Tom whispered dangerously as he forced the book away from his chest and back into Ophelia's hand. "I made it so I could have access to these books."

 _Oh, good heavens no!_ Ophelia just pressed the book back into Tom's chest as soon he had given her the restricted book back. "We will be in so much trouble if a professor notices there are books missing!"

"They will not," was all Tom hissed in reply. He grabbed Ophelia by the wrist that planted the book unto his chest, and quickly pulled her along with him farther down the book aisle. She was tense and her obvious fear of getting in trouble lingered at the back of her mind; it annoyed Tom that she of all people would ever think he'd get caught.

He pulled out one more book from a shelf and handed it to Ophelia.

"Meet me outside of the Slytherin common rooms after dinner, and bring the books. In the meantime, hide them in your room." He demanded as they began to walk out of the library. "Make sure little Miss Blaine doesn't concoct some ridiculous rumour that you're meeting with some strange lover as you excuse yourself from her presence."

Ophelia casted a side glance at Tom; he hadn't moved away from her yet even though he had finished barking out orders.

"Margo would never imply such a thing," Ophelia stated evenly, "but if she did, it wouldn't affect you or your reputation in any way, shape or form." It was only 1943, everything would was be the girl's fault especially in terms of a sordid reputation...Whatever future Margo predicted was a long, long ways from the time they lived in.

A cruel little smirk flashed on Tom's face. "Obviously my reputation will be as perfect as ever, but just think: Nott might hear this rumour and become more underwhelmed by you."

The Slytherin's words burned into Ophelia's ears and it made her whole body feel weak and hollow; a lump in her throat appeared; and she clutched the bundle of books closer to her chest. As if that would stop her from being hurt by his words.

Tom leaned over to Ophelia, a good three inches between their faces. "Do not talk to Nott again." He left as soon as those final demands were barked out; it left Ophelia hurt and frustrated.

She wanted to hurl the books at the prefect as he walked away, he wouldn't have been hard to miss given Tom's broad shoulders, tall figure, and head the size as a parade balloon with an ego to match….In the end, the brunette marched off to her dormitory, stuck the three restricted books under her bed, and traded the herbology book for a transfigurations text book.

It was no surprise to find the room for transfiguration to be empty, seeing as class didn't start for another twenty minutes. Ophelia plopped herself down on a chair in the middle section of the class, rested her chin on the palm of her left hand, her mind drifted off, and 'All Or Nothing At All' by Frank Sinatra played in Ophelia's head…

 _She was dancing with Graham Nott in the grand hall, soft music played in the background, and several other blurred out couples danced on the sides as well. Her mousy brown hair was pulled into an elegant bun, there were no accessories to be found in her hair, ears, or around her neck, but she sported a coy smile as her and the Slytherin beater danced away. Ophelia wore a simple salmon colored trumpet dress that was a mixture of lace and chiffon._

 _Graham wore a black formal suit with a deep green tie, his hair slicked back, and he actually gave her a full smile. Not a pesky, half hearted grin._

' _Forgive me if I am stepping all over your feet. I'm not too great at ballroom dancing.'_

 _Graham lowered his hand from her waist to the hip, pulled her in closer to him, and held her there securely. 'I suppose it is a good thing then, that I am the better dancer.'_

 _She rested her head on Graham's Nott chest, and swayed with him as he led the dance. The soft music becoming even more distant as she continued to dance with young man, her heart sped up in her own chest._

 _It was perfect, here she was dancing with a boy she fancied who seemed to like her back. The Hufflepuff female lifted her head up: she was going to be brave, she was going to give Graham Nott a kiss. Her green eyes shut gently, stood on her toes, and placed her lips onto the boy's. Graham lowered his hands from waist to her bottom._

 _Slowly she pulled away, her eyes opened slowly but quickly widened in abject horror. A small gasp of fear escaped her mouth. She didn't kiss Nott!_

 _Tom Riddle looked down at her with a blank expression on his face. 'How underwhelming…'_

Ophelia blinked her frightening day dream away, her heart was banging rapidly, chills ran along her arms and down her spine. The Hufflepuff sat up straight in chair, grabbed her transfiguration book and started to read the chapter Professor Dumbledore would be going over that. She was not going to let her mind drift off into a daydream for the rest of the day.

While Ophelia was doing her best to cram information into her head, a certain young man with dark hair and brooding brown eyes made his way to the Slytherin common room.

* * *

A quiet intensity immediately filled the room as Tom scanned for his victim. He spotted Nott on a plush couch, helplessly flipping through a herbology book. Malfoy and Avery were not present, but Lestrange and some other random house mates polluted the area as Tom made his way to the idiot on the couch.

"Is everything alright, my lord?" Lestrange said in a whisper since he was unsure exactly who Tom was keen on 'talking' to.

Tom ignored Lestrange. "Nott," he snapped as he addressed Graham.

The pure-blooded male looked up and cracked a little smile at Tom; Nott was either trying to be charming or a bigger idiot. "My lord."

Tom Riddle glared down at the boy until that foolish smile completely fell off his face.

"My lord," Nott tried again, his voice more serious. "Is everything alright?"

The heir of Slytherin grimaced at his lackey, "Maybe I should be asking you if you're alright, because I don't ever recall you and Miss Darwin meeting up to exchange pleasantries until today. I just needed to ask, _who_ in the _bloody hell_ do you think you are talking to someone who, and I've made this clear, is only _my_ subordinate?"

Nott opened his mouth, "We weren't exchanging pleasantries, I needed help with herbology and I figured Ophelia- I mean-Miss Darwin could-."

Rage jolted through the heir of Slytherin's body: Ophelia's name rolled off Nott's tongue too naturally and it severely irked him. Tom's brown eyes narrowed and flicker of red shown through them for a brief moment, Nott immediately stopped talking. "You are not to talk to Miss Darwin any longer." Tom kept his voice clear and even, "Go find someone else to help you pass your trivial classes."

"Yes, my lord," was Nott could say.

Tom looked over his shoulder to Lestrange, who tensed up and averted his eyes away from the prefect. A sneer came over Tom's features before he decided to attend to more important matters. After, all he'd gotten away with the murder of his pathetic father as well the rest of his muggle relatives, and framed it perfectly on his degenerate uncle. Tom was certain he never needed them anyways and felt quite happy he erased some of the scum that breathed the same air as him.

He accomplished so much just in one summer on his own and he discovered so much about his heritage on his own. Tom Marvolo Riddle, a half-blood who was descendent of Salazar Slytherin with two horcruxes to boot. Imagine….what more he could accomplish with Ophelia's blind obedience. It made him smile, a truly sadistic smile.

* * *

"So are we heading to the Quidditch game this weekend, yes or no?" Peter asked Ophelia and Margo between bites of his dinner.

"Our house isn't even playing, Peter." Margo rolled her eyes at young man and picked at her dinner plate. "It's Ravenclaw versus…" The pure blonde girl tossed a look at the brunette who sat across from her. "Who is Ravenclaw playing against."

Ophelia put a hand over her mouth so Margo wouldn't have to see the chewed up food in her mouth as she spoke,"Gryffindor."

"Exactly," Peter interjected. "Ravenclaw goes against Gryffindor this weekend, but next weekend it's us against Ravenclaw." Peter once again was made a chaser for the Hufflepuff team, and took any opportunity to watch all and any Quidditch games.

Margo huffed and finally took a small bite of salad from her plate. "I'm not going."

Peter and Ophelia exchanged glances before going back to their food. Margo would definitely end up going since she had the natural tendency to do the opposite of what she said she'd do.

Peter Elwood gave the brunette a tired glared before nudging his over to the blonde who sat next to him; Ophelia, used to Peter's gestures only shrugged her shoulders subtly and went back to eating her dinner. Whatever irked Peter about Margo and vice versa could be the topic of gossip for her and Margo tomorrow.

She still had to excuse herself from her friend's presence, rush to her dormitory, get the books, and meet Tom. The sooner she finished dinner, the sooner she could be done for the night. Ophelia gave herself five more minutes to eat before she left to meet Tom.

 _Potions from the Dark Ages, How to Curse Objects, and Dark Magic from Ancient Times:_ Ophelia skimmed through the titles of the books as she waited for Tom; her fingers ran over the finely printed words of _'Potions from the Dark Ages'_ and a small fragment of curiosity lingered on the edge of her thoughts, as if to prompt the sixth year to read the whole book before Tom could.

"A peak wouldn't hurt...would it," she muttered to herself. Ophelia wanted to know why Tom would need such books; especially one that dealt with potions causing a cheating spouse to have a stillborn. Slowly she opened the book to its first page with a small hope of finding a potion not too terribly morbid. Ophelia went to flip over to the next page but a heavy hand clasped onto her shoulder; causing her to freeze in the middle of her motions...in an instant, from just how the heavy hand planted itself onto her body, Ophelia knew who it was.

"A peak," the young man whispered into her ear as he tore the book away from her, "would definitely hurt." Tom took the other books from her there after. "Especially since you are as emotionally mature as a four year old. These books," he stated lowly with a mock of sincerity, "would ruin your fragile soul and stain it."

Ophelia frowned at Tom. "You speak as if it your soul would be unaffected."

He wanted to laugh at such a silly statement like it was joke in need of validation, but the sixth year Slytherin only wanted to poke at the female before him a slight bit more. He knew she hated when her questions were ignored. "Thanks for holding these for me-."

"You don't sound the least bit thankful-," Ophelia interrupted.

Tom looked down at her, as if her words were never spoken. "Merlin, who knows what would have happened if I didn't have you as my _friend._ " A small delight echoed through the heir of Salazar when he noted the familiar shade of shame and hurt shine in Ophelia's dull eyes.

It honestly was fun mocking the subpar witch, something about her vulnerability made it all too interesting for him. Especially as they got older.

"We're not friends." Ophelia stated in an even tone, trying not to let her frustration show to the handsome wizard. He'd made it clear before that they were not friends or even acquaintances….They were...Well, she couldn't even think of a title of it.

"Ah," Tom sighed with something similar to contentment, "there is a working brain in your head somewhere." He brought up a hand that was free from holding books to her head, and patted Ophelia as if she were a pet. "I much enjoy not having to pretend I like you, Ophelia." A smirk painted itself to Tom's lips, "I can save that for more _worthwhile_ people."

Tears started to bead at the corner of her eyes; Ophelia turned her body away from him: the cruel boy who was dead set on turning into an even crueler man. She was _not_ going to cry about something the Slytherin repeated over and over and over again to her.

"Goodnight, Riddle," Ophelia tried her best not let the hurt show in her voice; her feet carried her away from the Slytherin house to hers. She didn't wait for a goodnight from him because he'd never do such a thing for the likes of her half-blood status.

Tom was rather proud of himself as he watched the sixth year Hufflepuff walk away; something about her submissiveness probably had something to do with it. A small part of him almost wished Ophelia had been a Gryffindor; it would have been pleasing to imagine her as a lion with its tail between its legs.

He walked off to his room and she walked off to hers….Her day dream of accidentally kissing Tom slowly crept into her mind as Ophelia tried to drift to sleep; it left her feeling wildly disappointed and empty for a reason she could not place a finger on.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment. Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think.

* * *

 _September 25, 1943_

Peter Elwood was not what anyone would have called religious He was also far from what anyone would consider spiritual, but he did have priorities. One of the most important things in his life was Quidditch. If Quidditch had its own religion, Peter would have been the most spiritual person Ophelia would have known.

Ophelia sat between Margo and Peter, half heartedly watching the game while her eyes grew heavier and heavier. The only thing that kept her awake at the moment was Peter's constant yells whenever something happened.

It went without saying: one of the three Hufflepuffs did not get a good night's rest.

"His voice will be a mess come dinner tonight," Margo whispered to her friend, with a slight edge of worry in her voice. "Maybe we should try to get some soup in him later for his throat, yeah?"

"You can try, Margo." Ophelia yawned and stretched her legs as she did her best to get comfortable. "He'll probably want pudding as soon as his stomach starts growling."

"Honestly," the pure blooded girl lectured at the half blooded girl, "he needs to start taking better care of himself now. You never know who he might end up arranged with-I mean what if he ends up with some pure blooded French girl who never cares for him?"

Ophelia shrugged and pretended to watch the game; her eyes got heavy again. However, Margo was not done talking about Peter's _**nonexistent**_ French fiance.

"My Gran's best friend, well, more like her best friend's brother-"

"Please get to it, Margo." Ophelia pleaded softly with her friend.

"Right," Margo started, "anyways, the best friend's brother, had an arranged marriage to a French pure blood, and she cheated on him left and right. She did not care one bit about her actual husband." Margo casted a look to Peter and she sighed. The Blaine girl probably thought her longtime friend was that of a handsome, chiseled idiot.

 _Cheating spouses_ , Ophelia thought, _and stillborn potions….._ Ophelia's head raced with questions she wanted to ask Margo, though she was confident Margo would have no answers whatsoever.

Question 1: Did the potion only work if the cheating spouse was carrying a child she was not supposed to be carrying?

Question 2: Were the main users of this morbid potion predominantly pure bloods?

Question 3: Has the use of this potion been banned in the wizarding world?

Question 4 (the real one that boggled her mind): Why was Tom looking at such a disgusting potion and exactly who put the books out in the open for him to find?

A tight feeling echoed in her chest as her stomach began to feel queasy: Tom didn't even have a girlfriend either, so why was he reading a book that stressed on hurting a significant other?

Ophelia stood up abruptly, which scared Peter for a slight second to snap him out of the Quidditch game. Margo didn't think too much of Ophelia's sudden movement, she was more occupied with her friend's clothes.

Peter arched an eyebrow at his friend, "Pipa, everything alright?"

Margo groaned at Ophelia, "Pipa, you're in a skirt without your school robes on today! You can't move so fast, you might showcase your undergarments."

"I just remembered," Ophelia lied, "I have a paper due Monday and I haven't even started the research for it yet!" The feeling of sleepiness that ached through her body was replaced with sudden energy. "I'm sorry you two, I really need to get to finishing that paper."

Peter opened his mouth, "Maybe after the Quidditch-."

Ophelia shook her head and started the leave the row they were seated at, "No, but I'll try to see you both by dinner time!"

Margo sighed but smiled at her fellow Hufflepuff, "Good luck, Pipa."

 _Good luck will be needed_ , Ophelia thought as she made a beeline for the library.

* * *

In her head she tried to think of where to start for her answers….but she could not for the life of her remember the titles of the books her dull green eyes gazed upon yesterday.

"Dark potions and something about magic in the old days," the lone Hufflepuff whispered to herself. Absentmindedly, she twirled her ashy brown hair in between her fingers as she tried to sort out an aisle to start at. _I suppose,_ Ophelia thought, _the history section_... _Hopefully I can find my answers in there._

As Ophelia made it to her designated aisle of the library, an unaware Slytherin and Ravenclaw were hidden in the oddest corners of that very same area.

"Oh, Tom." A feminine voice giggled seductively as the Slytherin tugged playfully on her curly, red locks. "You tease me so, but I do know your tricks."

Tom did his best to mimic a boyish grin. "You do, Miss Sharpe?" He leaned in closer to the Ravenclaw's ear and whispered, "Please, tell me about my tricks."

Selene Grace Sharpe, she was everything Tom imagined a true pure blooded witch to be.

Beautiful: with fiery red hair with steel blue eyes, her skin was flawless and like smooth porcelain-her lips might have been a tad on the thin and shapeless side, but overall, she was a beauty.

Rich: her family might not have been the defining purebloods from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but the Sharpe family came from generations of old money much like those from the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

More importantly, Selene Sharpe had something he wanted: connections. Granted, it wasn't anything major, but it would do in a pinch. See, the Ravenclaw had been trusted by the librarian with a certain amount of freedom within the Hogwart's library, and that included the restricted area.

"Your tricks, Mister Riddle," Selene started off with a coy smile, "leaves girls rather… _satisfied_ , I heard." She pressed her body closer to Tom and delicately wrapped her arms around his neck. Her beautiful eyes slowly shut, she leaned in, and her thin, shapeless lips puckered.

A chill of disgust quickly came and went over the Slytherin's body as he recalled girls, all of which, he never came into actual physical contact with. Tom was still, sure as hell going to use whatever details of that rumour to his advantage.

 _It's only physical pleasures of the human anatomy,_ Tom thought as he leaned in to give the red headed Ravenclaw student a kiss, _it can't be hard for anyone to manage or attempt._

Their lips collided, and as they continued to snog, Tom did not feel anything significant as Selene kissed him.

As the Ravenclaw and Slytherin continued their activities in the odd edges of the library; Ophelia was two books deep into research. So far, most of her questions had been answered.

Answer to question 1: Yes, the potion only worked if in fact the spouse cheated. Ophelia had dig into an old potions book that mentioned the potion and how it worked, but _not_ how to make it.

Answer to question 2: Surprisingly, the potion was used by pure bloods mostly when an affair with half blood wizards/witches resulted in an illegitimate child. Thankfully, the book used to answer question number one also included this shiny piece of detail.

Answer to question 3: Yes, as soon as the dark ages lifted up and wizards were more careful about certain potions, the 'stillborn' potion was banned and was to stay that way, any practice of it would result in a painfully long case from the Ministry. Ophelia found this information in an old textbook that discussed laws in the wizarding world during different eras of history.

Now all she was left with was a question no book could feed her the answer. _...Tom and his access to the books._ Ophelia fought off a pout as she wracked her brain to answer the fourth question.

She stretched her arms over head and let out a loud yawn; Ophelia made her exit of the library, she didn't bother to return her books, not knowing her obnoxious yawn alerted two other students that someone else was there.

Selene let out a little squeak as she pulled herself away from Tom and readjusted her clothes. "Oh please don't let it be a professor," Selene fussed as she recomposed herself.

Tom was a little relieved that the snogging came to an end; he'd get to leave. "Isn't the fun of sneaking around the anticipation of getting caught?" Tom still had to make sure he had Selene Sharpe fooled and still under his charm.

Selene leaned in and gave Tom a quick peck and the lips, "You are incorrigible...I like that."

With those words, Tom knew he'd now have an easier time getting the information he wanted and needed. He gently grabbed Selene's left hand, brought it up to his lips for a little peck. "I will see you soon, Miss Sharpe."

"You know where to find me," Selene sighed slyly as Tom began to leave their little corner of the library.

The Slytherin boy and Hufflepuff girl missed an encounter with each other that afternoon, just by a matter steps and turns. Tom retreated the Slytherin common room; Ophelia curled up on her bed in the Hufflepuff girl's dormitory.

Tom Riddle made a note in his head to meet up with Selene Sharpe later that day. Ophelia Darwin made no notes in her head as drifted off for a long nap.

* * *

Margo Blaine the mothering type: an overbearing, over analytical, hypercritical, mothering type. So when she walked into the girl's dorm room, after being ignore by Peter for what felt like hours, to see a brunette peacefully asleep and relaxed-Margo was _not_ having any of it.

Margo lifted her right hand up in the air, and with all the power her body could muster, she smacked Ophelia square on the back. "It is the middle of the day, Ophelia Mae Darwin!" Margo scolded as she began to shake her friend awake.

"I was just taking a rest, Margo." Ophelia grumbled as she tried sink into her bed.

Margo was now jumping all over Ophelia's bed, "Did you even finish that paper you were so worried about?"

A nonintellegible groan escaped Hufflepuff girl who laid still on the bed.

"Tsk," Margo stopped jumping around the bed and sat down next to her friend's sleeping body. There was a moment of silence before Ophelia sat up from the bed; she blinked out any remains of sleep from her eyes.

"Come on," Margo commanded was she nudged Ophelia to get off the bed. "Let's get something to eat. Peter's probably already in the Great Hall waiting for us."

 _No,_ Ophelia thought as she got out of bed and heading down the halls with Margo. _He probably scarfed a whole chocolate cake down his throat by now._

"You missed a good show of Quidditch, Pipa." Peter was in between bites of his meal as he spoke to the half blooded witch. "Ravenclaw lost, so that was quite good in my opinion."

Ophelia ignored Peter's rambling on about the game, and she even managed to ignore Margo lecturing Peter about watching what he said about other houses out in the open.

Since she lacked appetite at the moment, Ophelia's eye zoomed over to the Slytherin table.

Easily she noticed Nott at first (a small twinge of embarrassment filled her body at how he'd probably never even see her as an actual, attractive female). Lestrange was the second one she noticed, followed by Malfoy, Avery, Mulciber, and Dolohov. A few of Tom's usual 'friends' might have been missing but she didn't know who.

"Pipa, are you listening to anything I have said." Peter asked.

"Uh," Ophelia was caught off guard with Peter's question but she knew him well enough to know he said something Quidditch related while she was busy ignoring him. "You're excited for this year's Quidditch season?"

Peter smiled and snapped his head over to Margo, "See! Pipa cares about Quidditch."

Margo opened her mouth, and her and Peter started to banter back and forth between the two of them.

Slowly, Ophelia's dull green eyes wandered back over the Slytherin table. Her mouth dropped slightly, a small and tired gasped escaped her mouth, a strong twinge of an uncertain feeling rattled through her chest down to her ankles.

Tom Riddle walked into the Great Hall, cocky and arrogant as usual-throwing a small, polite smile to a select few Hogwart students he deemed worthy.

That was something normal, something Ophelia was accustomed to. What she was not accustomed to, was the beautiful witch who had her arm locked onto the most pompous Slytherin student ever to breathe.

A sickening need to eat as much as Peter overwhelmed her feelings next, but she tried to sort out the uneasy sensation she got as Tom kept the beautiful Ravenclaw close to him.

 _Maybe,_ the Hufflepuff thought as poured herself a glass of water, _she's the reason Tom's looked at potion?...Maybe that is his…._

Ophelia couldn't finish the thought, it made her uneasy. _Oh, sod it._ Ophelia thought as she took a big gulp of water.

She made a note in her head to just forget why a terrible potion existed, to forget Tom had been looking at books from the restricted area, and to look away from the Slytherin table for the rest of night.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment. If there are any errors please let me know and I will try to fix it as soon as I can.

Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think by leaving a review.

* * *

 _September 30, 1943_

There was probably a multitude of things Ophelia could have been doing at this very moment. She could have been studying in depth, bubotubers and how to properly dilute (or was it distill) them. She could have answered a question on where to find a great abundance of shrivelfigs. Maybe, she could have given a little insight to wiggentrees in class and have gotten Hufflepuff ten points to her detailed oral presentation.

Though where was she at this very moment? The answer: not in herbology, where Ophelia Darwin _should_ have been.

No, she was not chatting it up with a boy who only wanted her notes. No, much worse. She was in a boy's room-a Slytherin prefect room to be exact, seated at a tidy little desk, troubled with organizing notes that were not even hers.

The boy who roped her into this, sat comfortably on his bed, legs crossed, and his eyes focused on a book from the restricted area (which was the reason why they couldn't have done this business in the library.)

She was indeed cornered and in a situation where once again, Tom needed her for this, that, and another thing. As much as Ophelia hated herbology-for some reason, she hated Tom Riddle more today….Well she grew to find Tom more and more irritable since he walked into the Great Hall with Selene Sharpe in tow.

At first it was easy to ignore Tom and Selene. Really, it was. Though, at every corner it seemed she heard or saw the two together. The Hufflepuff even heard a rumor that the Slytherin prefect and Ravenclaw girl had been snogging each other in the hidden corners of the library-which at first did not bother her.

Until Peter, told both Margo and Ophelia that Kristoph Sergeant (a buddy of Peter's from Gryffindor ) could confirm this rumor was true. It left Ophelia steaming in a pot irritation and anger.

How could Tom really be demand her help for his advantage, yet still have an actual Ravenclaw who doted on him so heavily? Selene Sharpe should be doing this for Tom-not her!

 _Herbology sounds like a blast right about now_ the Hufflepuff thought as she hurried to finish the transfer of information from her notes to his.

As Ophelia added more details to Tom's notes of their latest defense against the dark arts lecture (he hardly had _anything_ except important spell terms written down) her handwriting became sloppier and sloppier with each paragraph. By the time she was done, it looked more like scribbles from a child.

"Here." She snapped as she slapped the notes in front of the boy. She moved from Tom's tidy little desk to the edge of his bed, and tried as fast as she could to grab her things and be away from the Slytherin prefect.

"Stay," The heir of Slytherin commanded before Ophelia could even pick up all her belongings. Tom's brown eyes scanned the mess of parchment paper that was once neat. Merlin, he could barely make out the Hufflepuff's handwriting. To put it simply: he was not pleased with Ophelia at the moment.

"Have you regressed back into the two year old you actually are," Tom snapped at her. "I told you to help me by adding unto the notes for details-not to scribble!"

 _She's never been this incompetent_ , Tom thought in his head as Ophelia looked away from him; stiff and quiet as if she was statue.

"I must be going now," was all Ophelia said as she stood up to leave. _Herbology, here I come!_

"No, you are not."

The Hufflepuff kept going for the door, the Slytherin had been ignored by her…. that had _NEVER_ done in the history shared between Tom Marvolo Riddle and Ophelia Mae Darwin.

Tom especially did not like that, his blood boiled and maybe for the first time ever, he felt like he did want to hurt Ophelia...just a little bit.

As Ophelia reached for the door knob, Tom focused on it and felt a hot rage wash over him.

Ophelia let out a quick shriek of pain when her hand came into contact with the doorknob. She stepped away from the door, she examined the hand that was wounded….there was a burn import as big as her palm.

"I can't…" Ophelia's voice trailed off and she looked at the boy who sat still in the middle of his bed. She took in a deep breath as she felt her body shake slightly, "I can't believe you actually hurt me."

Tom scoffed at her, if he did feel bad about burning her hand, he was not going to let it show. "I can't believe you ignored me."

"You burned me," Ophelia whispered as she extended her hand out, palm first to show Tom the deep red mark on her hand. Tears began to collect at the corner of her eyes.

Tom got off his bed, walked straight over to Ophelia, grabbed the injured hand firmly by the wrist, he then yanked Ophelia close to his chest. He put his free hand under her chin; it forced her to look up at him.

A small bit of humanity inside the young man almost noted how he felt something _unfamiliar_ in holding the Hufflepuff student so close. It was not anything like holding Selene Sharpe-he felt something odd stir in him.

The heir of Slytherin looked down into the female's eyes. He was expecting to see fear in those dull eyes, anger, maybe even hatred. All he saw was confusion and something that looked like a flicker of hurt, Tom wasn't all that sure.

 _She really does operate on blind obedience,_ Tom thought quietly to himself.

In a swift movement Tom released Ophelia; he put his long and pale hands on her shoulders and gave her a strong enough shove to send her tumbling backwards to the door.

"Be glad," Tom began with no emotion or charm in his voice, "not many people who make me cross getaway with a little wound."

"So messy notes make you cross." Ophelia was in some type of shock. Not ever did she felt Tom Riddle would actually hurt her. Why would he ever? Hadn't she been his help since day one? Hadn't she shared as much knowledge as she could with him? They might not have been friends, or even acquaintances, but _damn it_ , how could she be so naive to think he'd never hurt her?

 _He probably hurts others in his own house!_ Ophelia was slowly piecing things together….How he had gain practical control over Slytherin students, males especially….He probably put them in check more than once.

It dawned on her and sent chills down her body: fear.

Tom gave her a sadistic little smile but he said nothing. The facial features on Ophelia's face was enough: she was now scared of him. He liked it. The Slytherin prefect much rather enjoyed the frightened look on Ophelia; he found it attractive in a way. He reached for Ophelia one more time.

The contrast between his pale hand and her fair skin of her neck; he felt her pulse firmly on his palm. He liked it….the feeling of Ophelia under his hold of his hand.

Ophelia kept her breathing light and slow, she was surprised at the lack of a grip Tom's hands didn't have on her throat. Her eyes were wide and opened; too scared to blink she was. All it could take was a blink for Tom to choke her out if he so pleased.

Slowly, he leaned in towards the girl. The space between them vanished in an instant: Ophelia was pressed up firmly against a door, and Tom was pressed firmly against her. This was the closest Tom had ever allowed them to be physically.

"Consider yourself lucky, _**Ophelia.**_ " Tom's whisper did not come out as a hiss, it didn't come across as threatening. To Ophelia's ears it sounded soft, sultry, and seductive….which scared her ever more.

Ophelia choked back a whimper; she was almost certain the first person she ever met at Hogwarts was going to snap her neck in half. "L-lucky," was all the frightened girl could stutter out.

She felt the opposite of lucky!

"Yes," Tom whispered into her ear. His lips brushed against her ear lobes, "I am going to be merciful towards you for once in your sad, little life." The seductiveness in his voice wore off. "Get out."

In an instant he removed his hand from her throat, and took his body away from hers so Ophelia was no longer pressed against the door.

 _What just happened?_ Ophelia thought as she looked up Slytherin prefect. She knew her eyes must have been as wide as dinner plates and filled with shook up emotions as she stood still in front of Tom.

"Get out," Tom said once more; his voice was rough. "I will not repeat myself again, Ophelia."

In a heartbeat, after Ophelia processed those words, she practically flew out of the boy's room.

A part of her blind obedience to him shattered as she ran.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment-so if you see an error that needs to be fixed let me know. I will try to fix it as soon as I can.

So since this story is rated "M"-more mature stuff will be happening soon. You've been warned.

Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think by putting a review.

* * *

 _October 5, 1943_

"She's staring at you again," Peter stated as he added salamander blood into a cauldron.

"Peter," Ophelia hissed as she stirred their potion counter clockwise; a small hue of green was started to appear in the cauldron. "You keep staring at her direction! She's probably staring at you!"

Quietly, the Hufflepuff male started to crush some wartcap in a little pestle. He looked at Selene Sharpe from the corner of his eyes; there was no way the Ravenclaw student could notice his glances at her. Selene stirred the potion in her cauldron as she held her solid stares at Ophelia.

"Pipa! I know for a fact is isn't _me_ Selene Sharpe is staring at!"

Ophelia took a small breath in, "Are you done crushing the wartcap?" She had a hard time keeping herself calm and collected since her last interaction with Tom. Ophelia was dazed and locked up in her own mind more so than usual.

Her burn on the left palm was completely healed and she had the _Episkey_ spell to thank for that, but the impression of fear Tom inflicted onto her was fresh as ever.

"Fine." Peter threw the grounds of wartcap into the cauldron without any caution. "Don't believe me but she looks rather peeved with you, Pipa."

Ophelia's thoughts bubbled to when she was stuck in the Slytherin prefect room, how she thought that perfect Selene, with her red hair and bright blue eyes should have been working on Tom's notes!

"What?" Ophelia snapped, "If anyone should be peeved with anyone it should be me! _ **I**_ should be peeved _**at**_ someone!"

"Oh, Miss Darwin." A voice that belonged to Professor Slughorn bellowed out, "There is no reason for you to be peeved with anyone. Especially not in class." The potions professor narrowed his kind eyes, only a little bit as he spoke his next sentence to the Hufflepuffs. "Now, Miss Darwin and Mister Elwood anymore outbursts and I will have to take five points away from your house. Please, finish your potion."

"Yes, Professor Slughorn," the two said in unison.

Ophelia and Peter waited for the professor to check on students on the opposite of the classroom before their started to whisper.

"Geez," Peter started off, "angry much? Anyways, why should you be peeved?"

Ophelia quickly wracked her brain for a lie. She looked down into the cauldron and stirred the potion in a clockwise motion. "Well," the half-blooded witch began, "would you be peeved if someone was indeed starting at you while you were working?"

The Elwood boy opened his mouth, only to promptly shut it afterwards. He glanced carefully over to Selene Sharpe, who was in the middle of a conversation with another Ravenclaw student. "I suppose I see your point," Peter whispered.

* * *

Tom Riddle stood with perfect posture outside of the potion's classroom. Avery stood off to his left side and Malfoy stood off the his right.

The heir of Slytherin was not one to be trifled with today; he realized he had made a human error. He was disgusted with himself for getting angry and admittedly, a very small, almost non existent part of him could say (half heartedly) it might have been wrong to put his hand on a lady the way he did. Tom was also angry about it too because now he had clean up his own mess.

 _I enjoyed it too much,_ Tom thought as he recalled the events of Ophelia in his room. _Who wouldn't though?_

He was in control and had the upper hand; he liked the control he had over Ophelia; Tom liked the physical roughness he brought suddenly into their….He supposed the word 'dynamic' could be used.

But yes, he enjoyed the physical roughness he brought suddenly into their dynamic.

"My lord," Malfoy pointed a finger towards the crowd of students that exited out of Professor Slughorn's room. Malfoy squinted his eyes slightly, "I see Darwin walking off with Elwood." The pure blooded ,blonde male made sure to address the Hufflepuff female formally.

"Remember," Tom said lowly to Malfoy and Avery, "make small talk with Peter Elwood. He is from a good family in the wizarding world-see if you can make somewhat of a decent impression on him." He had a plan mapped out in his head as to how he'd _**coerce**_ Ophelia to keep her mouth shut and her schedule available.

The sixth year student probably only took five steps towards his intended destination before a barricade delicately appeared in front of him.

 _Damn it_ , Tom cursed, _time for the facade_. He did his best impression of a boyish grin, "Miss Sharpe."

Selene's perfect, pearly, white teeth were exposed-the corners of her mouth curled into a perfect smile. "Tom," she nearly sang out his name. "Please, call me Selene. Especially with how close you and I have been getting." Selene gave Tom a wink.

 _I really don't have time for this right now,_ the heir thought with a small amount of disgust as he looked down at the red headed girl.

Malfoy and Avery almost felt the need to pat their dark leader well on the shoulder; but decided against it.

Tom faked a happy chuckle, "While that is true, I do enjoy calling you Miss Sharpe." He tried to think of a smooth, and gentleman like lie, "Especially because I know that you are a true lady through and through." His brown eyes darted quickly from Selene to where Ophelia had been.

She was gone. That damn _filthy_ witch.

Tom Riddle felt Selene place her delicate and perfect hands on his shoulder; he looked down at her.

Their lips met for a chaste kiss; Tom felt Selene smile in the middle of the kiss.

The Ravenclaw student pulled away from the boy's face and whispered lowly only for him to hear, "I'm only a lady through and through, until you want me to be something else."

Tom tried his best not turn his nose at Selene even though he found her statement interesting but rather repulsive. He merely painted the boyish smile on his face and went on his way-just as if Selene had said nothing.

* * *

Ophelia was doing a great job at being a complete mess the rest of the day. It seemed what Peter had said about Selene starting at her escalated to Selene being at every nook and cranny of Hogwarts Ophelia was in.

It wasn't just in Peter's head; it was now in her's too. If Ophelia had to head towards transfiguration, Selene was there in the crowd of students as they passed each other.

If Ophelia had to use the restroom, Selene Sharpe was suddenly there perfecting her already groomed hair in the mirror.

If Ophelia took time to take in the ever expanding beauty of Hogwarts, Selene was there in the background like the plague.

 _I am losing it._

Ophelia found herself in the library later in the day. The sixth year Hufflepuff stared blankly at the textbook she picked at random to distract from the fact a sixth year Ravenclaw seemed to stalk her.

What the hell did the Hufflepuff pull out from the shelf?

Did she care? No.

Oh, Merlin, was she frazzled. Tom had turned to be a bigger arse than she realized...a violent one at that too. Now it turned out that his girlfriend, who had beauty, brains, and pure blood was a stalker.

 _Is this hell_ , Ophelia thought as she raked her fingers through her brown hair. _This must be hell_.

What did she do to deserve the change of direction in terms of her and Tom? She helped him! That was all she did for the longest time was help that Slytherin who didn't give a damn about her.

Ophelia never liked how Tom treated her like a second citizen-but, _**fuck**_ , she finally got used to his prickish behavior!

Not once did she ever feel like he'd lay hands on her! Hurt her verbally-that stung but she'd get over it. Hurt her mentally-a bit harder to not feel like shit but Ophelia felt better by the next day.

Tom burned her using some sort of wandless and wordless magic; he shoved her to the door; he pressed himself up against her body; he put his pale hands on her neck and was calm and in control the whole time. Though was scared the most still was the seductive tone he used on her!

 _What in the actual fucking fuck?_

Ophelia took in a deep breath, collected her things, and walked off to the exit. _He liked it...I felt like he did.._.Ophelia was nearly two yards away from the exit until a disgusting thought entered her mind. _Did I like it?_

Before Ophelia could answer her own question, she felt some bump hard into her. Ophelia was greeted by the fiery red hair of Selene.

 _Oh, Merlin, no._

Selene said nothing, she only finished the rough shoulder check she initiated. The sixth year Ravenclaw then pushed her hand down into one of the Hufflepuff's robe's side pocket.

Ophelia tensed up; she feared Selene took her wand but felt the weight of her wand still safe in the pocket of her robe.

No, Selene had dropped something in there-not taken something out.

The half-blooded witch said nothing as Selene retreated deeper into the library. She wasn't hurt, she felt no pain-though she was rather nervous.

Ophelia took in another deep breathe in an attempt to calm herself and finally she walked out the doors of the library.

Before she allowed her curiosity to get the best of her, Ophelia decided hide in the comfort of the Hufflepuff dormitory.

As soon as reached the empty room, Ophelia quickly put her hand in the pocket she was sure Selene put something in. For a split second, she felt like a child who had their hand firmly in a cookie jar, about to sneak a yummy treat. It made her calm for a moment.

Her fingertips brushed against what felt like paper-she grabbed it and pulled it out. In the neatest script it read:

 ** _Keep away from Tom…_**

 ** _This is your first and only warning._**

 ** _-Selene Sharpe_**

Ophelia could almost chuckle-she honestly did not have to be told twice to stay away from Tom.

 _Consider it done._

Ophelia pulled her wand out of her pocket, she placed the letter into the nearest bin, then pointed her wand at the letter. " _Incendio_."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment-so if you see an error that needs to be fixed let me know. I will try to fix it as soon as I can. Since this particular chapter is longer than usual-it might have more errors. I hope you guys are able to enjoy the chapter. It took me a while to figure out how to write Tom's character for this chapter as well.

So since this story is rated "M"-more mature stuff will be happening soon. You've been warned.

Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think by putting a review.

* * *

 _October 30, 1943_

Ophelia watched the Hufflepuff team practice in the Quidditch pitch for what felt like hours; their next game was tomorrow and it was against Slytherin. They trained harder the past week as soon as they heard the news: they ran drills early in the morning before classes and they even tried the new techniques later in the evening.

"I really feel we might have a fighting chance." Ophelia took a sip of hot chocolate from her little thermos before handing it to Margo.

Margo smiled at the clunky, black thermos and took a sip from it as well. With every little muggle device Ophelia shared with her-she fell more and more in love with the convenience and simplicity of it. Next to the television, Margo thought the thermos was probably the second best thing muggles got right.

"I think," Margo chirped happily, practically cradling the thermos, "it is nice to see Peter this motivated."

The two sixth years watched as the Hufflepuff's Quidditch team descended into the Quidditch pitch; Peter waved at his friends to leave the rows they were seated at to come and listen to the captain.

Ophelia stood up and rushed down with no problem; Margo placed the thermos down before she headed to the group of Hufflepuffs. Margo placed it down with such care, it almost seemed like she was putting down a newborn baby.

"Well," William Zolotov started off, "criticism first: our formation isn't as tight as it needs to be if we want to win. Beaters, I am looking at you. I need you guys to stay close to the chasers and the seeker." Zolotov looked over to Peter, "Give them the compliments please, Elwood."

Peter cleared his throat, then smiled; and Ophelia swore she heard Margo's heart flutter. The half-blooded witch rolled her eyes at the pure-blooded witch.

Ophelia leaned into Margo. "Drooling over your hot stud of a chaser, eh?"

Margo nudge Ophelia in the ribs, her eyes fixed on the Elwood heir.

"We have greatly improved our speed and reflexes as this must be the first season we've had together where we are in close to perfect sync with one another." Peter went on, "The best we can do is show up tomorrow and bring out best to pitch. If we lose, then we lose but if we win…."

Peter and William shared a look of mischief before they announced the rest of the sentence.

"If we win," the two boys said in unison, "house Hufflepuff is getting completely _ **sloshed**_ and the other houses are invited!"

Ophelia paled at the thought... _Oh, Merlin_ …

* * *

Tom was in the Slytherin common room when he heard the news about the Hufflepuff Quidditch team wanting to throw a party if they won tomorrow's match.

Rosier arched and eyebrow and mused to the gang, "Maybe we should let the little puffs win-been a while since our house has been invited anywhere."

"Please," Lestrange interjected, "we'd win in a heartbeat."

The common room started to echo loudly with the debate of winning or losing to Hufflepuff. Tom narrowed his eyes and tried to dig his nose further into the book he was reading-but it was hard to block out the loud and rowdy Slytherin boys.

Why the hell did he want to 'study' in the common room?

A rather haughty voice cut through the boys' loud chatter, instantly the group that consisted of Tom's followers fell silent.

"The Hufflepuffs have been practicing." Selene was in the common room as well, she had been ignoring her only job to proofread Tom's report for Ancient Runes. Not one single mark had been made on his paper to either take away or add to the report.

 _Oh, right_. Tom thought bitterly as he tried to return to his book, _she's the reason why I had to be in here._

The heir of Slytherin could admit without any guilt in his heart: he did not want to alone in his bedroom with the Ravenclaw. As pretty as she was, as rich as she was, as clever as she liked to make people think she was: Tom could _not_ stand her.

Still, as he read a book that provided him with more information about Horcruxes, Tom remembered why he _pretended_ to like Selene….It took a good portion of control and willpower to not lash out on Selene either in private or public-but it gave him more incentive to be as nice as he could to the sixth year female who decided to take Ophelia's place.

It had practically been a month since Tom interacted with Ophelia. He was a small bit shocked that Ophelia Darwin was good at hiding when she didn't want to be found. Profoundly good, Tom Riddle hated to admit.

He grew tense and he began to realize how much he'd fallen behind on his pursuit of the dark arts.

Selene only hindered it as well! The red headed beauty became more demanding of Tom. She wanted him to kiss her in front of her friends; she wanted to stay a night with him after she 'helped' Tom with his work; she wanted more of his time. He wasn't willing to give her more.

Selene stood up, in a flawless motion she grabbed the snatched the book Tom had been reading. She winked at him and gave him a flirtatious little smirk. "Tom." Her voice went from haughty to soft, "Why don't we get a breath of fresh air."

 _Again with this nonsense._

Tom forced a very ill fitting smile to his face, "As you wish, Miss Sharpe."

* * *

Ophelia, Margo, and Peter walked around the grounds of Hogwarts later that chilly afternoon. The three friends stayed close together as they walked and chatted about nothing of too much importance: Margo walked on one side of Ophelia and Peter was on the other-it left Ophelia smacked in between the two of them.

"I have a bottle of firewhisky saved up tomorrow's party if we win," Peter smiled as he playfully punched Ophelia on the shoulder. "Your favorite drink ever, right, Pipa?"

Ophelia faked a frown at the boy. "I absolutely hate firewhisky." _Though_ , Ophelia mused to herself, _there is a lot of truth in that statement._

Margo grinned, "Firewhisky all around for us!"

"May our glasses never empty," Peter sang off key as he slung his heavy arm onto Ophelia's shoulder.

Margo smiled and then placed her petite arm onto Ophelia's shoulder as well; but it was rested more on Peter's bulky arms than her friend's shoulder. "May our livers be healthy."

Ophelia put one arm around Peter's back then the other arm around Margo's back. She smiled as they began to clumsily walk or skip in the same direction and pace. "And if we must leave a stranger's bed," Ophelia chuckled, "let us be stealthy."

The group of friends let go of their hold on one another after their little chant, a comfortable silence fell among them.

An indescribable calmness washed over the witch with dull green eyes; when was the last time she felt at ease and happy?

Birds chirped in the background, as if they were giving Ophelia an answer. A small, perfectly contented grin inched at the corners of her lips.

 _It is amazing what one month away from things can do_ , she mused. Her pin straight hair grew at least a good three inches past her shoulders; her skin had a glow to it; and the absolutely best part of all-her grades had improved immensely (especially in herbology.)

Ophelia actually had the time to apply her long, detailed notes into her memory better; she was learning in a way that better suited her. She was no longer considered an ''average' student and she had the marks to prove it.

 _The universe probably smiled down on me one day,_ the half-blooded witch thought.

A completely separate and random thought sprouted in Margo's head. "Wait! Stop!"

Ophelia was a little sad that a friend brought her out of feeling wonderful about life, but she stopped anyways to pay attention to Margo. Peter stopped in his tracks and looked scared that Margo broke the pleasant silence among them (he was having such a nice, brainless, day dream about winning tomorrow's game.)

Margo panicked, "I forgot the thermos!"

Ophelia blinked at the high frequency Margo's voice took when frazzled.

Peter felt his ears pop at Margo's sharp voice, he began to wonder how he never became deaf after being around her most his life.

"Do you remember where you left it?" Ophelia arched an eyebrow at her friend.

Margo nodded, "Somewhere in the Quidditch pitch rows?"

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, "Don't say it like a question if you're sure."

Margo's voice went shrill again, "I don't remember which row!"

The brunette rolled her eyes, "I'll go back and get it. No big deal."

Margo smiled, "You will?"

Ophelia just gave a curt nod.

"Alright." Peter started to walk off, "See you in the common room."

* * *

Selene was confused. Wasn't she perfect? Didn't she radiate sex appeal? Wasn't she smart enough? Didn't she do everything involving her feminine wiles just right with Tom?

She knew for damn sure, Tom liked it when she sucked him off. ( Selene did it on the day she handed her warning letter to the dirty, half-blooded Hufflepuff.) Her memory of the handsome Slytherin prefect ejaculating in her mouth was proof enough that he very much liked it.

The silence that accompanied them was one of discomfort, it wasn't until they'd reach the Quidditch pitch did Selene try something.

"Tom," Selene asked, her voice as sultry as ever. "What do you say we ditch the books tomorrow and do some...one on one time?" As they walked, she tried to intertwine their hands together.

Tom moved his hand away from her grasp and distanced himself a good foot away from the Sharpe heiress. "No thank you, Miss Sharpe."

A small gasp escaped Selene Sharpe's mouth at the prefect's action towards her. It took her no more than a millisecond to recover from her initial shock. "Oh, but why not? All you do is over work yourself." Selene smirked as the next words floated out of her mouth, " I can help you relax-I'll even do _all_ the work if you'd like."

 _She means for sex._ Tom's nose reacted as if he smelled something putrid. "No, I think I'd rather not." Little by little, Selene started to grate on his very last nerve.

Selene was not used to being told 'no' two times in a row-her parents never did that her- and she'd be damned if any male would do that either.

"Excuse me?" Selene flipped a handful of perfect red curls over her shoulder for dramatic effect. "No? Are you saying no to me? Physically pleasing you?"

Tom was officially tired of her constant need of his attention. He was tired of her constant need for him to shower her with affection.

"I am saying no, Miss Sharpe, to you in general." Tom's voice was firm and cold, something Selene never heard from Tom. The Slytherin prefect's face quickly showed features of a man, annoyed...Something you didn't want to see in a dangerous man. "I'll no longer be meeting with you in the library. I can fix up other ways to get the resources I need."

"How dare _**you,**_ " Selene yelled. "I have never been so insulted!"

Tom arched an eyebrow at the beautiful girl. "Maybe because you're too busy being used to notice."

Selene felt enough hot rage throttle her veins, she could erupted a volcano had she known a spell for specifically that. In one fluid motion, Selene drew out her wand and point it at the handsome boy. "You take that back."

Tom drew out his wand, "Put your wand down Selene." He pointed it with ease at the pure-blooded witch, "You've no idea what exactly who you are going up against."

Selene ignored him, " _Bombard_ -."

Tom flicked his wrist and without even thinking, the words flew out of his mouth. " _Crucio!_ " There was no guilt or conscience that echoed in his body. He had already gave Selene Sharpe a warning-she was the one who uttered the first spell.

It was by no means his fault that she wasn't fast enough for him.

A blood curling scream echoed throughout the Quidditch pitch; Selene Sharpe writhed in pain. It was everywhere: all over her skin, inside her body, the pain consumed her. She let out another scream.

"You were warned." Tom pointed his wand down at the Ravenclaw student. "So sad though, that you won't remember not to raise your wand at me again."

Selene tried to raise her wand up, but was still in too much pain to even take ahold of her wand-her vision was blurred as well.

" _Obliviate_." Tom was calm as he noticed all it took was the Forgetfulness charm for Selene to close her eyes and fall asleep with pain.

 _No more hindrances,_ Tom thought as he put his wand away. He was about to walk as far away from the Quidditch pitch as possible, he'd even leave Selene there for her to wake in a dazed and confused state….

The sound of something heavy and clunky colliding with the ground ultimately caused Tom Riddle to freeze in his tracks and look over to the Quidditch stands.

There was a witness...Tom was slightly grateful though, when he apparated to the figure and found a scared Hufflepuff.

* * *

Ophelia was almost as pale as snow at the sight that unfolded in front of her. She wanted to run as soon as she saw Selene and Tom at the pitch in the first place, but she was curious at first as to why they were arguing.

At first, she thought it was a lover's spat. She couldn't have been anymore far off from what actually went down.

Ophelia was paralyzed with fear. _He used a cruciatus curse on her! He used an Unforgivable curse on her!_

Her eyes were shut tight but tears were violently streaming down her face. Tom's tall figure loomed over her like a bad omen.

She was going to meet the same fate as Selene Sharpe…. _The universe was not smiling down on me._ Ophelia flinched as heard Tom take a step closer to her body. _It thought it would be funny to completely screw me over._

Tom Riddle tried to drink the situation in: there Ophelia Darwin stood in front of him, scared, her eyes shut in anticipation, and quiet. _Coincidence,_ the boy mused, _is in my favor._

He brought a pale hand up and carefully wrapped his hand around her neck. He felt her pulse go into a series of panicked and abnormal paces. Using the grip he had on her neck, Tom pulled Ophelia into him and the sweet scent of cinnamon hit his senses like a brick breaking through a glass window. _Did she always smell like a cinnamon?_

"Ophelia," Tom greeted evenly, "how nice to see you again."

The Hufflepuff only replied with a choked back sob.

He kept one hand firmly on Ophelia's neck; Tom decided he wanted to feel just how terrified she was of him at that exact moment so he wrapped his free arm around Ophelia's waist and looped her even closer.

Even if Ophelia's head was just beneath Tom's eyes, they were chest to chest. The heir of Slytherin felt the Hufflepuff's heart race at uneven paces….She felt warm...

"Riddle," Ophelia said in between sobs, "I promise you, on my life, I will not tell a soul what I saw!"

He smirked at the sudden rush of joy he got from seeing Ophelia at his complete and utter mercy. "I don't know...I can't say I believe you." He moved his grip from her neck to her chin. "Look at me," Tom snapped at her.

Without hesitation, Ophelia snapped her eyes open. There is was: the fear and vulnerability. Tom could have gotten drunk off of it as it left him feeling powerful...Maybe one could say...It aroused his more ** _primal needs_** as man.

A devious plan formed in his head.

Tom's deep, focused brown eyes met with Ophelia's watery, dull, green eyes.

"Do exactly as I say, Ophelia." He leaned into her; now their foreheads were pressed against each other. "Then I will believe you when you say you't won't tell a soul."

The half-blooded witch shook with fear, but her tears slowly subsided. Ophelia nodded her head with forced eagerness. "I will do exactly as you say, I promise!"

He smiled.

She didn't.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment-so if you see an error that needs to be fixed let me know. I will try to fix it as soon as I can. I hope you guys are able to enjoy the chapter.

This story is rated "M"-and there is a sex scene in this chapter. You've been warned.

Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think by putting a review.

* * *

 _October 31, 1943_

Ophelia looked at her reflection in the mirror, incessantly she smoothed her palms over the fabric of her skirt. Her palms were sweaty. Her green eyes were paler than they usually were, but it wasn't exactly noticeable. She tried to calm down and collect herself, she kept looking at her reflection in the mirror...It didn't exactly help.

The chocolate haired teen sported a black, long sleeved turtleneck that gently hugged her form, a brown tweed skirt that stopped right above her knees, black knee high socks, and her yellow platform loafers.

 _Oh, Merlin._ Ophelia panicked as she heard the girl's dormitory door slowly swing open. _I'm not ready._

"Pipa!" Margo shouted gleefully, "Come on, you're missing the party!" The sound of music of wild chants flooded the girls' dorm room all at once.

Ophelia could have heard Peter's loud laugh somewhere in the common room where the party took place. Hufflepuff won the Quidditch match today, and as promised, a party was being thrown and everyone had one objective: _get fucking wasted_.

"I don't think I like how I look." Ophelia lied. She was stalling; she knew she was stalling.

Margo stepped into the room, closed the door gently behind her; took on good look at Ophelia and laughed at her friend. The pure-blooded witch wore a pale fuchsia swing dress with a boat neck cut, she had fuchsia pumps to match.

"Pipa," the platinum blonde giggled, "You look downright fit." There was a slight hint of firewhisky in Margo's breath.

Ophelia forced a smile to her face. "I just-I-I don't think I feel like going down to the party tonight."

Margo wasn't listening. Instead she walked up and grabbed Ophelia by the face and smiled a cute, drunken smile. "But Riddle's waiting for you down stairs, Pipa!"

A cold chill crashed over Ophelia and stayed in the pit of her belly; she pulled away gently from Margo. "No," Ophelia lied once more. "It's a party with a bunch of other people and houses, he could be waiting for any-."

"Oi, Pipa!"

Ophelia closed her eyes and sighed; the door violently swung open to reveal a tipsy Peter Elwood. He was wearing a clean Quidditch uniform, no cape was to be found draped on his shoulders. Peter swung a bottle of gin that was in his hand in the air as if he wanted to make a toast.

 _What in the bloody hell?_

Both the girls arched an eyebrow at the drunken boy.

"Pipa!" Peter sang off key, "Riddle's downstairs. He asked me to fetch you." He brought the bottle of gin to his mouth and took a long sip. "That is all." Peter apparated down to the common room, Ophelia winced at the sound of a body crashing and breaking furniture. Peter was going to wake up sore and hung over tomorrow.

Margo grabbed Ophelia's wrist and excitedly skipped out the room; Ophelia was rather shocked by Margo's firm grip.

"Madness is in the air, Pipa. The best kind of madness." Margo whispered to her friend as she led Ophelia to Tom. Margo pushed through the crowds to deliver Ophelia to Tom. Ophelia tried latching onto the random members of the crowd-in hopes that one of them would snatch her away, and maybe casually ask her for a dance...Her luck didn't work that way,

Ophelia's heart pounded sporadically against her chest; her palms sweated; her eyes locked with Tom's...Her eyes widened in fear was she realize it was now just her and Tom….Tom and her...The lamb...and the slaughterer.

She wanted to scream out that Tom had used an Unforgivable curse! Every nerve in her body went cold as his eyes looked her up and down.

Ophelia let out a shaky stutter, "R-Riddle."

Tom looked down on Ophelia, he took note of the turtleneck she wore. He liked how the black fabric clung to her neck especially; though it complimented the rest of her figure as well.

At the back of his mind Tom always knew Ophelia was a girl and had parts that belonged to a girl, but it was rare to see her figure since it was always covered with a robe. Part of the truth was also, he never made a note to actually _look_ at Ophelia.

Tom saw that the Hufflepuff felt uneasy as he stared at her. _It's like watching the ugly duckling turn into the swan,_ he mused as a cruel half smirk pulled at the corner of his lip.

"Let's go." The Slytherin quietly walked out the door, he knew the Hufflepuff would follow after him.

Soon the two walked side by side. One was calm and confident. The other was reserved and quiet.

Tom look over at Ophelia as they walked in silence; he made no effort to be slick about it (he never pretended to be shy or gentlemanly or nice to her -no use in him starting to now). He was slightly pleased at the way Ophelia's skirt swayed as she walked with him.

A small part of him understood why Lestrange lusted after the half-blooded witch, but he scowled at the thought of Lestrange noticing Ophelia bloom long before he did. _I've already put Lestrange in his place,_ Tom had to remind himself.

Ophelia snuck glances from the side at Tom. He wore a plain button up shirt and a pair of black slacks, but as always he was handsome. No amount of plain looking clothing would ever make him look less attractive.

 _He is handsome but he is cruel._ Ophelia chanted that in her head as she found herself being led to the Slytherin's prefect room. _He is handsome but he is cruel. He is handsome but he is cruel and he might hurt you._

Once in his room, Ophelia went over to his desk. A small drop of relief greeted her as Ophelia noticed the desk was still as tidy as ever.

Tom shook his head and barked a command at her. "No."

Ophelia's whole body became frigid as confusion became evident on her face. "No?" She arched an eyebrow at the young boy who looked intently on her from the edge of his bed. Ophelia took a deep breath in and tried to hold her composure. She _**was not**_ going to be a sloppy mess-she _**was not**_ going to risk herself getting hit with an Unforgivable curse. "Where would you like me?"

Those five words that flew out of Ophelia's mouth was music to the heir of Slytherin. "By me," he replied quickly. His voice was harsh and it had a certain implication to it.

Ophelia pretended that it was only the usual harness in his voice, nothing else. She sat on the edge of the bed with him; Ophelia kept her hands neatly folded in her lap. Her dull green eyes focused on the desk. She didn't want to look at him.

Tom didn't like that. "Look at me, Ophelia."

The half-blooded girl didn't move an inch.

"Ophelia," Tom said as he brought his hand to her chin and turned her face towards him. "It would be in your best interest to listen to me the first time." Tom brought his face close to her earlobe, "You promised to do whatever I said, remember?"

She nodded her head; Tom's hands still on her chin. "Yes, Riddle. I remember." How could have she forgotten?! Ophelia landed into this mess because she witnessed something she shouldn't have just _yesterday_ for Merlin's sake.

Tom's lips brushed against the Hufflepuff's earlobes. "Do as I say, no protests."

She said nothing...He could have easily just started with or without a word, but a small part of him (maybe it was his mythed sense of humanity or the his rarely spotted sympathy) went on to make the half-blooded witch got his intentions. "Ophelia," Tom breathed out an irritated whisper. "Do you understand me?"

She knew, deep in the pit of her stomach she knew exactly what Tom was probably going to demand of her. A weird warmth flooded over her when she realized, in his own, twisted way, he asked for _consent_. The Hufflepuff opened her mouth, her thoughts and emotions conflicted greatly with what her body allowed her to say. "Yes, I understand you."

Gently Ophelia turned her head slightly, the action broke Tom's contact with her ear. Now their foreheads were pressed together; their lips were millimeters apart. Not once had it occurred to Ophelia that Tom would ever allow himself to be this close into her personal space.

Anyone with two working eyes could have sworn that in all the times Tom associated with Ophelia, it wasn't because he _liked,_ liked her. But hey, who really knew? Maybe the two, as opposite as they were, did have a place in the other's heart?

No it was because Ophelia had something he wanted or needed-books, information, a personal secretary.

Now...He just wanted someone who wasn't the annoying Selene Sharpe (the plague that irked him beyond reason) and the Hufflepuff in his grasp fit the bill well enough.

Cold lips met with warm lips: one teen wrapped their arms around the other's tiny waist, while the other quietly snaked their hands around a rather thick neck. At first the kiss is plain, chaste.

The two teens pulled slightly away from each other, the kiss was innocent and it scared them.

Ophelia hoped that only one kiss is enough to save her, to slap her back into her right mind and realize that Tom is a cruel boy who uses Unforgivable curses. It did the opposite it: it made her curious for more.

The heir of Slytherin was stunned for a slight second; that witch did something to him. Ophelia, a girl with no pure blood made him feel something: the subtle twitch in his pelvic region is proof enough of that. Now he is just as curious too.

Tom moved into claim Ophelia's lips for a second time; he pulled her in closer, his grip on her waist tighter, and the scent of cinnamon engulfed him.

Ophelia gasped quietly at Tom's tighter hold on her; he seized this opportunity to snake his tongue into her mouth. The Hufflepuff rather liked that, she moved one hand away from the Slytherin's neck and placed it gently on his back.

The kiss grew deeper as their tongues explored the other's mouth; Ophelia felt her core get warm and fuzzy; Tom felt himself harden.

With a harsh grunt, Tom pulled his lips off of Ophelia, fresh air rushed to his lungs. "Not your first kiss, I take it?" He wasn't bothered at all if Ophelia snogged twenty or two men-he just wanted to know what else were those soft lips were good for.

"No," Ophelia hummed out. She was bothered and flustered-never would she have guessed Tom Riddle, the boy who constantly abused her in one way or another, was a good kisser. Her hands slowly trailed to the front collars of his white button up shirt, her hands were shaky. "Does it matter if this is my first kiss or not?" The chant about Tom being cruel is hazed by the moment.

A rude scoff escaped the male's mouth, but he doesn't answer the girl's question. Tom removed his hands from her waist and placed them on the girl's bum. He felt her tense but still, he left his hands there and went in for another kiss. Their tongues went back to eager exploration.

With his hands on her bottom and her hands gripped onto the collars of his shirt, they soon found themselves lying in the middle of bed.

Tom on top (of course.) His prey underneath him.

Ophelia with a surprisingly graceful movement, gently kicked off her platform loafers; then used her sock covered feet to get Tom's shoes off his feet-that wasn't so graceful. A little gasp of surprise hummed in her mouth as she felt something hard pressed on her as she finally got Tom's shoes off.

A guttural moan escaped Tom's mouth as Ophelia's legs caused friction between their bodies; her little hips brushed up against him so many times it almost felt like she was teasing him.

"You damn _**filthy**_ witch," he hissed as his hands went down to the edges of her skirt. Tom went ahead and allowed his hand to go under the skirt; he felt the soft fabric of her undergarments.

Ophelia tried to keep her lips on his but the new sensation that bubbled between her legs made it hard to do so.

 _How wonderful,_ Tom thought as his fingertips reached for the rim of her panties; with no trouble he pushed them to the side. His pointer finger gently touched the outer lips of her womanhood; she was wet. He smirked at her natural reaction to being kissed and felt on.

"Ah," She moaned, embarrassed at him touching her more intimately. "What are you doing?" Ophelia was about to jump up but she felt his finger and how to started to circle around a very sensitive area.

"Shut up, Ophelia." Tom's voice was low but it wasn't the dangerous tone she heard for six years hearing...It scared her a little, she didn't recognize the tone. Then she remembered how she couldn't stop him.

"Riddle," Ophelia moaned as she felt Tom quicken the circular motion around her clit. She bit her bottom lip lightly; her back arched as she felt Tom press his hardened member closer to her opening. Even with his slacks on-she could feel him.

"What?" Tom's voice was distant. He couldn't help but look down at the girl pinned beneath him. Her hair was a brown and tangled mess, her hands were now gripped onto the bed sheets; moans frantically exited her mouth as he played with her….His blood boiled just boiled at the sight. "What," he asked again, "What, Ophelia?"

"Oh, Merlin," the girl sighs as the boy above pressed himself to her. " _Riddle_ , that feels good."

Her heart drops and a startling realization pulled her out of her lusty haze-not once did she ever think the words: "Riddle, that feels good" would ever come out her mouth...but they just did! A red flush rushed to her cheeks. _What is the world coming too?_

Slowly, Tom pulls his finger away from the clit he played mercilessly with. _She should be wet enough by now,_ he thought as he started to undo his trousers. He could feel the Hufflepuff tense up; he tried not give the girl too much space to move-just in case she did something too unpredictable. Tom's zipper flew down, the sound of it echoed through the room. Carefully, he managed to pull a fully erect cock out.

Pale green eyes widened at the sight, "Riddle-."

A sigh escaped Tom's mouth, he wrapped a hand gently around the girl's neck. "Ophelia…" He paused as if he wasn't completely sure of the next words out of his, but he finally said it anyways. "Drop the formalities-it's going to annoy me."

The Hufflepuff said nothing-a part of her was either too scared, too caught up, or too dumbfounded to say anything. Ophelia stifled back a moan as Tom's tip poked at her wet entrance; her panties still pushed to the side.

 _I bet she's tight_ , Tom thought as he pushed the whole length of his cock into her with ease. Much to his pleasure, he was right about the female being tight. A satisfied sigh is all he lets himself reveal to his partner in bed.

"Ooh," Ophelia moaned as she gripped tighter onto the bed sheets underneath her. _Merlin, I am going to explode._

At first, the Slytherin's thrusts are careful and slow-he wanted to enjoy how tight her walls were around his engorged member. But soon his body kicked into it's own natural rhythm; Ophelia's moans were probably what got him going...Though how she bit her bottom lip and looked at him with eyes in a dazed state probably did it as well.

In a frenzy, Tom kissed her and she quickly responds with a kiss just as hungry as his. Tom slams himself in and out her; he practically pounded the girl deeper and deeper into his mattress; he reveled in how that in turn causes her to become even wetter.

"You filthy little thing," his whispered harshly to the Hufflepuff as his thrusts become faster and harder. Beads of sweat formed on his body; he felt hotter than usual-but maybe that is what happens when one doesn't take off all their clothes to engage in sex. "I should have known you liked it rough."

Ophelia let a light chuckle escape her mouth before she started to kiss and suck at the boy's neck; her legs wrapped around his waist and she easily adjusted to the intense pace Tom was set at. Her body was overheated as well-but no sweat dripped from her skin.

 _This isn't her first..._ Tom furrowed his brows but continued to pump into her-that slightly bothered him.

" _Tom,_ " Ophelia's voice was sweet and low-something new to him.

He didn't respond; he wanted to focus.

" _Tom_ ," Ophelia moan again. " _Tom._ "

 _Bloody hell_ , he let out a breathless groan. "Ophelia," He breathed out carefully as he got lost in his pleasure, " _ **what**_?"

The four words that slipped out of her mouth so easily they could have been a song- was Tom's undoing.

"I'm going to cum." Ophelia moaned loudly; she legs wrapped around Tom's waist tighter-it allowed him to go in even deeper than he imagined. " _I'm going to_ -."

"Ah." Tom's own moan cut into her sentence-he released himself into her. "Ophelia," Tom groaned as he let his body go limp on top hers. Her body shuddered at what he had done; but she doesn't try to push him off of her.

Tom and Ophelia both silently wished that hadn't been so caught up in the moment-they'd would have been able to take their clothes off ,and then _**maybe**_ their bodies wouldn't have felt spent and tired.

The two teens took slow and easy breaths as the haze of lust drifted out of their minds. Silence settled between the two as they began to piece the strange intimacy that they had part taken it.

For better or for worse: Tom Riddle and Ophelia Darwin greatly altered their dynamic.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment-so if you see an error that needs to be fixed let me know. I will try to fix it as soon as I can. Without giving much away for this chapter before you read it, a bit of a small snippet of how I am as a person: I have for sure, been Margo on accident when a friend was trying to get some romantic time. (You know what I mean?) Anyways please enjoy the chapter!

Thank you for reading this, and a big thank you to those who leave reviews. It really lets me know that some people are actually reading this story.

ALSO just a heads up: I **might** be writing a Team Fortress 2 story here soon depending on how badly the idea keeps gnawing at me. I do want to finish this series first before I move onto something else.

* * *

 _November 4, 1943_

Tom was in a tolerable mood towards most people since the _encounter_ with Ophelia. He'd managed to even get more accomplished because of his tolerable mood the past few days.

He was incredibly pleased with himself, here, he had the brains, the lackeys, and the resources to make his future come closer in sight. Hell, even Selene Sharpe never came back to haunt him either.

"My lord." Dolohov quietly approached the heir. "We have a few more pure bloods who are interested in becoming Knights of Walpurgis as well."

"Is that so?" Tom walked beside Dolohov. Not once did he stop to acknowledge his fellow housemate properly. "They do know what we are, or are they under the assumption we're just some silly club?"

Dolohov answered without missing a beat. "No, my lord, they know what we really are."

"Very well." Tom stopped in front of library doors. "Tell Malfoy and Avery that they're in charge of the hazing process tonight. Those who can stomach whatever Malfoy and Avery can throw their way are in, those who can't," Tom scoffed and ran a hand through his thick black locks, "Obliviate them and make sure you leave them somewhere that isn't suspicious, understand?"

Dolohov's face wrinkled at Tom's words. Did he miss something-did a memo go out as to why Tom, the heir himself, was not going to lead the hazing process for the new members? Dolohov opened his mouth to speak, "You're not going to initiate the new members tonight?"

"No." Tom shot a glare at his house mate, "Which is why I am telling you what to do, Dolohov. Do you understand?" For a split second his eyes looked red.

The boy who had questioned the heir of Slytherin simply nodded his head; there were no more questions that bounced in his head. He scurried away to find Malfoy and Avery.

Tom opened the heavy doors of the library, he was pleased to find it quiet and empty. The handsome boy walked down an aisle of the library; on the second row of the fifth shelf he passed by; he pulled out a book that was tattered and had the small scent of black smoke to it.

Yes, Tom Riddle was in a tolerable mood and slowly, day by day, piece by piece, it got better. Whether or not Ophelia was the cause of his rather pleasant mood didn't pop up in his mind at all.

Though the encounter between them replayed at the back of his mind whenever Tom found himself becoming idle. His mind then reminded him it had been four whole days since Tom had seen the filthy little Hufflepuff.

Tom cleared his throat; leaned his back against one of the many shelves in the library; he buried his nose into the book and began to absorb all the information he could before his mind would go idle and drift off again.

* * *

Ophelia knew she was capable of having episodes of pure stupidity; the girl was only sixteen so of course not every moment of her life would be brilliant.

For the longest time, Ophelia thought nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , could ever compare to the time she nearly burning down her old home in London (before the bombing, of course) because she thought to mix _Incendio_ and _Engorgio_ to see what would happen.

Poppa thought the whole ordeal was funny but Ben and Wendy Darwin did not.

The difference between that incident and her current conundrum was, she was about to be a second year student in Hogwarts who didn't know any better when she nearly burnt down a house...Now, Ophelia was a sixth year student who knew better. She knew now not to play and mess around with spells that could be dangerous at any second.

Yet, Ophelia did the most stupid and dangerous thing any girl at Hogwarts could have done: she had sex with Tom Riddle. What made it worse is she even _knew_ how horrid Tom Riddle actually was-and she enjoyed everything about the whole experience.

Yes, Ophelia Darwin was sure about one thing. She was a big, colossal idiot.

Maybe that was why she never could have been in Ravenclaw-she didn't dwell on that thought too much.

Carefully, she knocked on Professor Dumbledore's office door before letting herself in. "Professor," Ophelia greeted the kind man as her legs carried her over to his desk.

"Ah," Dumbledore pulled away from a rather curious contraption on his desk. It looked similar to a muggle lighter in a way. "Miss Darwin, what brings you to my office today."

Ophelia placed three sheets of parchment paper on his desk.

The man with auburn hair looked down at the paper, immediately he recognized the handwriting. A chuckled escaped him. "How is Mr. Elwood recovering?"

While Ophelia had missed a majority of the party due to.. ** _.reasons_** , she did make it back in time to witness Peter's delightfully unfortunate accident. Peter drunkenly apparated constantly throughout the night. At first it was just from one point of the common room (where the alcohol was) to another point of the common room (where Margo was); but he got distracted (as drunks often do) and thought how great it would be to apparate to the moon.

He tried.

He failed.

He failed miserably.

He ended up apparating himself just right outside the Hufflepuff common room, to the middle of thin air. Peter ended up falling to the hard ground and breaking several of his bones. Margo had to go fetch the nurse, and Ophelia had to rush down check on Peter.

Ophelia had to stifle back her own laughter at the memory. "Peter is good, Margo is looking after him while I drop off his assignments-this is actually the last one I had to deliver."

Dumbledore shook his head with a small grin plastered on his face. "I am sure he had a very good time then."

The half blooded witch nodded her head in quiet agreement. _I had a good time too._ Ophelia politely excused herself from the professor's office. _Even though, I really shouldn't have_.

The Hufflepuff student soon found herself walking towards the library doors. Usually around this time of the evening Ophelia would be in the Great Hall eating with her friends, but the sixth year Hufflepuff didn't fancy eating a meal alone.

 _Study time it is,_ Ophelia thought as she pushed through the heavy doors of the Hogwart's library.

At first Ophelia was absolutely content being the only person in the library; she roamed over the herbology section. _I need something on dittany,_ the brunette told herself.

"Oh…" The small, muted sound escaped her lips.

* * *

The boy looked up from the book he was reading and turned his head to the direction of what sounded like a garbled gasp. He clasped his book shut instantly and tossed it into a random spot on the library shelf. He narrowed his deep brown eyes at her, "Are you lost?"

"No," the female replied, she didn't want to go any further into the aisle. "I was looking for a book about…" _Damn it! What was I in there for?_

"For what?" He quickly snapped at her. Tom's general good mood was suddenly replaced-he felt bothered by Ophelia's presence. Tom's eyes raked over her body, he remembered how the girl's black turtleneck help to showcase her body wonderfully. He suddenly hated the frumpy school robe that hid the best parts of her figure. Even the skirt she wore now was longer than the skirt she wore the night they had sex.

Tom Riddle decided he ultimately hated the sight of Ophelia...in uniform.

"Dittany! I was here to find a book about dittany!" Ophelia forced a pathetic excuse of a grin to lips as she slowly backed away from Tom. "But, I've changed my mind. I don't actually need to know anything about dittany because-," The Hufflepuff tried to find a good excuse at the last minute. "Because I realized we're not covering dittany yet in herbology!"

Tom stopped leaning against the shelves; he went over to Ophelia and closed the gap in between them. "Is that so?" Tom was a good head taller than her; but still they stood chest to chest. His mind was growing hazy with the memory of Ophelia in his bed...He hated this feeling, but at least he knew how to remedy it.

"Yes, very much so." Ophelia continued with her lie; her mind screamed at her to run but her body took its time. "So, I'll just be on my way back to my room."

Ophelia was about to take a step back and sprint towards the doors for her exit. Instead two strong arms wrapped her waist, pulled her deeper into the aisle they were in, and slammed her up against a shelf.

"Riddle!" The female's heart skipped a beat as she tried to pull herself away from the male's strong grip. "What are you doing?" It scared her how quickly Tom yanked her away without a warning! She didn't even do anything to provoke him either! She struggled against Tom, but his grip kept her in place regardless.

"What did I say about formalities?" Tom put a hand on her tiny hip and pushed it until he was sure it was firmly against the shelf. He snaked his other hand over to cup one of her breast; something he realized he hadn't done the other night.

A panicked moan left the girl's lips. "Tom! What are you _doing_?" She was terrified yet stimulated at the same time. _Oh, Merlin, no!_

" _Ophelia,_ shut up."

That was his warning to her before he roughly pressed his lips to hers.

The smaller teen still tried to push the male off of her; Tom pressed himself up against her body. Ophelia was pinned by his full weight, all she could do now was melt into his possessive kiss.

 _Oh, dear God, could he kiss._ Ophelia wrapped her hands around Tom's neck and ran her tongue teasingly along his bottom lip.

A growl came out of his lips; and she felt herself go weak in the knees. Ophelia ran her tongue along his lip once more, Tom squeezed at the breast he had cupped in his hands before he plunged his tongue into her mouth.

She was still being an big, colossal idiot.

He only created another memory for his mind to wander off to if he became idle.

Tom removed his hand from Ophelia's breast and placed it on her bum: he gave it an unforgivingly tight squeeze that elicited a soft moan from her.

 _That's it_ , he decided in his head what he was going to do. He opened his mouth to tell Ophelia exactly what he wanted, but his words never flew out.

Instead a shrill string of words that were not his completely stopped the Slytherin prefect from talking. Ophelia paled at the recognizable voice

"PIPA!"

It was Margo.

"PIPAAA!"

Ophelia sighed. It was _**definitely**_ Margo.

"What the fuck." Tom hissed into the Hufflepuff's ear as he tried to regain composure.

Ophelia quickly sprang into action with a strong push on Tom's shoulders; he staggered back enough for the Hufflepuff to rush towards her friend. Her hands quickly patted her brown hair down and smoothed out her clothes so she didn't like a mess in front of Margo. She felt Tom glare at her as she retreated farther and farther away from him.

The half-blooded witch cleared her throat , "Yeah?"

"Hey!" Margo stood right by the library doors, three trays of food floated in the air besides her.

Ophelia squinted her eyes as walked closer to her friend, she raised a hand to point at the trays. "What is all this?"

The platinum blonde smiled, "Madame Harlow said we could eat dinner with Peter in the infirmary tonight! One tray for each of us!"

Ophelia smiled at her friend, "How sweet of you."

Margo nodded in agreement, "Yes, well, I am a very lovely, thoughtful, and sweet individual. I was probably a saint in my last life." Margo gave her friend a playful wink.

 _I was probably a lust filled sinner in my last life._ An overwhelming sense of self-stupidity spiralled like a tornado inside of the brunette. "Let's go then. Peter probably thinks he is dying of hunger by now." Ophelia opened the heavy doors and gestured for Margo to walk out first. The trays floated behind Margo.

Ophelia let go of the doors and headed on her way to infirmary; she tried so hard to block what just happened out of her head.

Back in the library an irritated groan let itself out of the Slytherin's mouth. Forget his tolerable mood, it was completely snatched up and stoned to death. He was left with a semi-erect cock and all the crazed hormones teenage boys get when they were just so _close._

He scowled as he walked out of the library and headed to the Slytherin common room. He'd be there for the hazing of the new knight members, he had enough anger and irritation for it.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment-so if you see an error that needs to be fixed let me know. I will try to fix it as soon as I can. Also I might have to take care of some family issues coming the next two weeks-so that probably will affect the next chapter update BUT I will be back.

Thank you for reading this, and a big thank you to those who leave reviews. It really lets me know that some people are actually reading this story, so please leave a review if you can!

* * *

 _November 13, 1943_

When lust happens sometimes a person can mistake it for love. Same could go for when a person is in love and they scrap the idea down to lust.

Both sensations came at a turtle's pace-painfully slow, then suddenly, it is rushed towards whomever with the ferocity of a dragon. It would be wise to never confuse the two; just as it would be wise to keep your distance until you figured out which was which.

Tom had kept his distance from Ophelia, but his eyes would look for her. He didn't understand it, but to be fair, he knew damn well that _she_ didn't understand either. The heir's eyes scanned intently around Hogsmeade, _**there.**_ He spotted Ophelia through the wide windows of the many shops in Hogsmeade. Tom continued his observation of the sixth year girl; she traced her finger lazily over the spine of a random book in one of the many shops.

 _She used to be so useless._ He thought back to their first year-Ophelia was the first student he'd interacted with at Hogwarts. Though if the Hufflepuff in question really was so useless, why did he stick around?

Tom stiffened his upper lip: what the hell was this damned feeling? William Zolotov tapped Ophelia on the shoulder; he could see it all from his obvious spot. The brunette stepped away from the Quidditch captain to look up at something he held in his hands. _She had good resources, that's it._ Did she though? Did she really? What about the fourth year at Hogwarts, didn't her resources grow thin? _She made up for it...She studied harder._

Zolotov had a small box in his hand that was neatly presented in purple gift wrap; he lowered it down to Ophelia; Peter Elwood peaked around the corner. The Elwood heir had more boxes wrapped in purple in his hands. Margo Blaine was nowhere in sight.

Tom watched as Ophelia outstretched her arms towards Peter, who in turn gave two medium sized boxes for the girl to hold. _**God**_ , did he absolutely hate her kindness. His mouth curled into a visible scowl and he walked away.

Roughly six years of routine and structure between him and her...then everything magically goes to complete shit? How does that happen? From the day they first met as children, the impression they made on the other, that alone built the structure Tom thought was bloody perfect. It was simple too.

Tom Riddle told her to help, and Ophelia Darwin did as she was told. Always. No matter how much of an arse he was to her, no matter what mean jab he could hurt her with, no matter how busy she was-Ophelia was always there for him!

Tom Riddle stopped in his tracks and felt a dull ache that echoed throughout his body. His nose twitched as if he smelled something rotten…. _Ophelia was always there_ ….

* * *

Ophelia was quiet as she walked alongside Peter and William. To be honest, she was scared out of her mind. She could have sworn that only a few moments ago, they were being watched as they helped Peter collect Margo's birthday presents.

Though she wasn't shaken at the thought of merely anyone watching them. Most people wouldn't due to Peter and William's size and the fact that both boys would not hesitate to get into a fight if they felt like anyone looked at them the wrong way.

No. The female Hufflepuff was quiet and scared because she knew that Tom had been the one watching. It took her a while, but she was halfway back to her proper mind. The lust or fits of hazy panic Ophelia experienced slowly leaked out of her system...but she wasn't going to lie...Ophelia knew she was _**royally**_ screwed. So royally screwed that Ophelia was certain none of the English royals had anything on her.

Even though Ophelia didn't have any solid evidence other than when Tom unleashed an Unforgivable curse, it clicked louder and clearer to her more than ever: Tom was dangerous and not to be fucked with. _Yet your dumb arse did fuck him anyways!_

She knew this almost for six years straight! Which was why for the longest time she grinned and took it all with a large pint of salt-because he was dangerous on top of not having having anyone else talk him through certain aspects of Hogwarts! He had no one else to really help him for Merlin's sake-his little gang member knew fuck all for the most part-Tom had no one!

The half blooded witch nearly dropped the two purple boxes as she trekked back to the Hufflepuff common room... _Tom had no one._..

The cold atmosphere of November was left outside of the castle but Ophelia felt a chill in her soul.

 _I wish_ , she thought to herself as she forced herself to sing and be merry for Margo's birthday as they crowded around a little pink cake (Ophelia felt a small bit terrible for that). _None of this ever happened._

Margo blew out the candles and Ophelia still made wishes. _Wouldn't it be nice if things went back to how they were?_

 _What if…?_ A wave of hope crashed down on the half-blood as she helped Margo cut the cake; subconsciously Ophelia nodded and hummed in agreement to whatever was flying out of Margo's mouth.

 _Maybe...maybe there was a way to fix and forget everything._

* * *

Tom rubbed his head at the sound abrupt knocking on his bedroom door. A mild headache started to cluster around his temples.

He got up only because he figured it was Malfoy or someone else from his lot. "This better be important and not something stupid," his voice was gruff as he pulled the door open.

At worst he expected a blonde sixth year male who looked anxious. Instead Tom saw a brunette sixth year _female_. No emotion portrayed itself on the Slytherin's face.

Ophelia let out a small, timid half-smile tug at the corner of her lips. "Hi, I was-."

Tom Riddle slammed the door shut on Ophelia Darwin before anything else left her mouth.

"No," Tom's voice was even and cold. "Go away Ophelia."

On the other side of the door, Ophelia yanked, pulled, and rattled the knob. "Riddle, I just-."

"What did I say about formalities, you filthy thing?" There was a smidge of arrogance in his voice. Tom was leaned against his door, hands and ankles crossed as the girl continued to fidget with door on the opposite side.

A rush of heat floated to Ophelia's face, the last time Tom called her 'filthy' was... _NO! FOCUS!_

"Tom."

"Better."

An exasperated sigh left the girl's mouth, " I only want to speak with you right quick."

For split second there was a moment of true silence, to a point where Ophelia thought she'd suddenly gone deaf. The door clicked open, Tom was already situated somewhere in the room, and Ophelia let herself in.

Tom sat at his desk, Ophelia settled herself on the edge of his bed.

"I'll cut right to the point," Ophelia cleared her throat. She was going to be direct with him. "I want to forget that anything ever happened between us. I think you and I behave better when we were just-er-well…"

Right they never were really friends to start.

Ophelia cleared her throat again, "I want things to go back to before."

 _There, I said it._ The Hufflepuff nearly held her breath as she waited for a reaction out of the Slytherin.

"Is that all?" Tom did his best to look as if he was bored with everything the girl on his bed said. "You bothered me for that?" He saw her tense up at his last sentence. While he wasn't angry at what the girl said, because it made sense to want things to go back to how they were...Tom felt that only an idiot would say such a statement. _What a childish thing to want..._

Nothing could ever go back to 'before'. Why would anyone want stop natural progression? Tom's handsome features did not move a slight bit but he felt annoyed with what Ophelia said.

 _Fine,_ he thought as he picked up a quill and his report for Ancient Runes from his desk. It should have been turned in days ago, but thankfully the professor gave him an unlimited amount of days to turn it in-being a prefect and an orphan was just so terribly hard some days.

"You want things to go back to before?" Tom snickered and threw the quill and report over to Ophelia. "Look through this, make sure there are no errors to be found."

A look of disbelief was obvious on her face. It really was that easy? "I can do that no problem," Ophelia quietly replied as her dull green eyes read the paper.

Tom's dull headache was gone by now, just something else in him felt achy. He tried to ignore it and push a book in his face; Tom did manage to find more information about Horcruxes thanks to Slughorn but he now wanted to know if he could make _more_ of them.

But no matter how interesting the book Tom pretended to be occupied by was, he found his eyes looking at Ophelia as she sat and began to make marks on his report.

A thought echoed in his head: ... _Ophelia was always there…._

And for whatever reason...Ophelia still allowed herself to be there for the arse of a boy who had no one.

Was it lust? Was it love? Neither of them knew the difference, neither of them never really considered being in lust or in love with each other.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

So, a little heads up: I will not be able to update for at least two weeks. I have some family issues to take care of and long story short, I am in charge of an infant and a toddler for two weeks.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment-so if you see an error that needs to be fixed let me know. I will try to fix it as soon as I can.

This story is rated "M"-and there is a sex scene in this chapter. You've been warned.

Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think by putting a review.

* * *

 _November 16, 1943_

 _Back to normal he agreed,_ Ophelia thought angrily to herself as she stomped after the Slytherin prefect. _'You bothered me for that?' , he mimicked and acted like everything would be just so dandy._

Tom looked over his shoulders to see how far behind the Hufflepuff was."Hurry up." His lean and tall legs had a wider stride than the female's skinny and short legs. Occasionally her robe would snag on a branch, or her black rain boots would seep too deep into a puddle, or she would stiffen at the harsh winds of November, or she thought she felt an unknown bug crawl along her shoulders, and a whimper of extreme stress would escape her lips.

Tom Riddle knew how much the half-blooded witch hated the Forbidden Forest almost as much as she hated herbology. So why not combine the two things she hated all in one setting? _If she hadn't said or suggested something I hated then maybe she wouldn't be in this predicament, now would she?_ Though, again, he wasn't sure why he hated Ophelia for what she wanted...Maybe she was just stupid, and her stupidity about the situation angered the boy even more. Much to a point where he'd been _**worse**_ than Ophelia thought possible.

"I don't have tall spider legs, Tom." Ophelia tried her best to remain calm as she stepped over twigs and puddles. A look of annoyance was painted on her face, "We aren't even supposed to be in this part of the forest! Madame Roseweed made it clear we weren't to stray too far from the class."

Tom rolled his eyes and continued on a path only he must have been able to see; they were supposed to be collecting herbs and who knows what else for herbology. Lestrange and Dolohov were in charge of making sure that Tom and Ophelia got good marks on today's lesson...Lestrange would _especially_ pay if _anything_ marred his grade for the day.

Tom snapped back at her with a quick retort. "Madame Roseweed is too busy being high off of actual weed to notice her students have gone missing."

Ophelia's eyes widened, "So the rumors are true."

"Well," a cruel chuckle escaped Tom's lips. "She'd have to be high off of something to let _**you**_ start succeeding in her class."

That cut deep into the Hufflepuff's pride. _You arse_ , she thought as Tom led them into a semi-opened field. Stung by his mean remark, Ophelia made sure to keep a good yard's length away from him. She took a deep breath in, let it out as a sigh, and tucked a small piece of thin, straight, brown hair behind her ear.

Tom watched her from the corner of his eyes. He waited for the words, 'what can I help you with today' to flow out of her mouth, but they never did.

A tense silence fell between the two teens.

"What are we doing here?"

"Observing."

Ophelia crossed her arms against her chest and looked out into the field they stood in...Nothing but tall trees and overly healthy patches of grass.

More silence.

 _...Should...Should I tell him there is nothing here?_

… _.Where on God's green earth is the damn creature?!_

Ophelia's eyes shifted around the empty field. Hadn't she overheard a rumour or two about a place like this in passing? Carefully, she turned her head ever so slightly to look at the boy. "You know while we were on the topic of rumors a bit ago, I heard this is where a bunch of fifth and fourth years come to do the _horizontal mambo_ if you catch my drift."

Tom blinked, not too sure if he heard right. "How crude." He almost sounded like an old nun but the look on his face at that point in time was not as stoney as a nun's but had a mixture of disinterest and disgust much like a nun's.

"I also heard that sometimes unicorns are spotted around here." Ophelia then shook her head at the boy, "But they are scarcer to spot come the colder weather." Her dull green eyes pierced into his brown ones. "Were you hoping to spy one?"

He couldn't stand the honest curiosity in her voice, just like he could not stand how Ophelia's mind jumped to the more innocent reasoning….Even though that was initially the reason why they were there in the first place.

The handsome young man narrowed his eyes at the female. "Well," he started off, "I didn't whisk you away to try and fuck you out in the open so don't try to flatter yourself."

That cut deep into her soul and mind, Ophelia's eyes widened and a small gasp of hurt echoed between the two of them. _You are not going to cry!_ She composed herself as best as could, but the sharp ache still hammered into her emotions. _Don't you dare cry!_

"Excuse me," Ophelia stated with a shaky voice. "But I think I will take that as my cue to leave, thanks." The sixth Hufflepuff picked her feet up and began to trudge away from the Slytherin prefect; she didn't get very far. In a blink of an eye, Tom reached out and firmly got a tight grip on her wrist.

A look of confusion and frustration washed to Tom's face. "Take what as a cue?" Did he say something particularly bitter? He furrowed his eyebrows out of thin patience at the girl instead of being genuinely worried about her. "What are you so mopey about, Ophelia?"

Ophelia didn't answer, she just gave a small tug against his hold on her. She was honestly a

fool to think things could be fine and back to normal.

"No." Tom hissed at her as he yanked Ophelia back closer to him. He could feel that he was about to lose his temper at any given second. "What are you so mopey about?" The second time he had to repeat his question he tightened his hold on Ophelia enough to make her wince.

Her answer came out as a broken whimper. "Nothing."

Tom was a smart student, a professional manipulator, and an expert liar. He might not have been the absolute best with girls his age but he knew that when a girl said 'nothing'-something was definitely wrong. _I am not falling for this!_

With one hand tightly on her wrist, he placed the other on her neck and brought Ophelia's body close to him. The Slytherin tried to be sure he didn't have the Hufflepuff in too tight of a hold. "Bullshit,"

"Tom," Ophelia's voice was strained, "Stop." Her eyes looked up at Tom, cloudy as ever.

Tom seethed as he looked down into her eyes. In an instant, without even meaning to, he knew exactly what made Ophelia upset. He just want to know why Ophelia was being so _damn_ fussy-and it was all over a trivial reason!

Tom's beautiful face, usually void of any human emotion except anger or irritation towards Ophelia let genuine confusion crash down hard on him. "You're upset because you think I am being _**mean**_ to you?"

"Did-," Ophelia's emotions went from hurt to angry in a millisecond, "Did you use Legilimency on me!?"

A gruff scoff escaped his mouth. "Well you weren't going to tell me what I wanted to know!"

 _Yes, that completely justifies you prodding into my mind!_ Ophelia glared at Tom. "That is not okay-."

"Okay? Who said anything about anything being okay?" He moved his hands away from her neck and wrist and placed them securely on Ophelia's shoulders. Tom knew his grip on the shoulders would possibly leave marks, but her clothing would cover them "You said you wanted things to go back to before! I never was nice to you before!"

Ophelia felt her head pound as she had to keep from crying. "Be that as it may, you were never a complete and total arse! You've been terribly cruel as of late! Everything I do, things you know very well I do my damn best at, you ridicule to the harshest extreme!" She placed her hands on the front of Tom's collars and gripped them until her hands turned from a fair complexion to a ghostly white. Her eyes were hazed with a heated, mean-spirited passion that Tom managed to create.

"If I am so **un-** fuckable to you then why did you **fuck** me in the first place, huh?" Ophelia might have been angry beyond belief, but she tried to stay as level headed as she could. That was as close to being bitter about Tom as she could get without being blasted into bits. The fear of being hit with a curse from Tom Riddle echoed loudly in the background of her mind.

He fell silent. Instead, Tom's grip on her shoulders tightened.

"You've gone and screwed us up…" Ophelia shook her head at the handsome boy. It was cold, she was frigid, she was in a forest she loathed-under the authority of a class that questioned her aptitude for the subject , with a boy who didn't give a shit about anyone but himself... _But Tom still didn't deserve to be alone…_ Ophelia never had a hard time when it came to swallowing her pride for his sake...Even if he was in the wrong. A long sigh rushed out of her mouth. "Forget I said anything, Tom. Please? "

Silence.

Tom felt the grip on the collars of his shirt fade quickly away; he even felt all of the girl's anger dissolve without a single trace. It wasn't even an expression in her eyes anymore. An odd sensation burned into his chest at the sight of her but he had no clue what it was. When they were younger he used to be so amused by the dejected look Ophelia sported so well.

 _Speak!_ Tom commanded of himself. Wasn't he all pissed at her to begin with? Wasn't she the one who wanted everything to go back to normal? Didn't he do something nice for her on his accord for her sake because she requested it? All the viciously quick comebacks in his mind paused in his head.

Until a brilliantly terrible retort finally popped into his thoughts. Tom opened his mouth to speak but the sound of a twig being broken behind him rendered him mute.

Ophelia's eyes widened out of pure shock at the creature they saw. There, no more than fifteen feet away from them stop a proud, young, male unicorn.

Guess at least one of the two rumors Ophelia heard was true.

The unicorn's eyes darted between the two teens: he could feel the intensity and displeasure Ophelia and Tom radiated with at the moment. They made him feel wildly uneasy. The beautiful creature let out a low neigh, reared its head upwards, and promptly left the two magic users to each other's company.

It must have taken at least five minute for them to realize that they were not high and did in fact see a unicorn for the first time in their lives.

A sniff broke the ugly silence between the two. Ophelia leaned into the boy's chest. In her mind, she didn't think that would provoke Tom.

But that was all he needed. Tom kissed her. The heir of Slytherin released his bruising grip of the shoulders to replace it with a possessive grip of the face.

The idiot kissed back. Ophelia snaked her hands around Tom's waist and parted her lips ever so slightly.

Somewhere in the kiss, they apparated off to the a comfortable Slytherin prefect room. Ophelia was underneath Tom; she bit the bottom of his lip slightly before she ran her tongue across it.

A low groan escaped the boy's lips.

Ophelia did it again: she gave a light bite on the bottom lip, and ran her tongue along it. This time though, when a groan came from Tom- she seized the chance to slip her tongue into his mouth.

God, did Tom enjoy that. He grew hard in an instant because of that particular move; Tom pressed his pelvic region against Ophelia and grinded the lower half of of his body against her….He could have sworn he felt a smile press against his lips as he continued to kiss this Hufflepuff.

A pleasant hum in the form of a moan manifested from Ophelia as she started to grind her lower regions at the same pace and rhythm as Tom's. " _Oh, yes_...you're _so_ hard…" She didn't mean for the words to leave her mouth.

Those words were heard though, and Tom absolutely loved the drunk tone Ophelia's voice took when hazed by lust. He stopped his frantic gyrating against the female's body to slip a hand under her uniform skirt; Tom rubbed his palm against her panties. "And you're soaking _wet._ "

That was it.

That was all they both had to hear before a mess of clothes were being yanked off of the other. Ophelia latched her lips to Tom's neck and gently sucked and nibbled at it as her fast fingers took off his robe and undid his shirt buttons. The heir of Slytherin slid off her panties first and threw it blindly behind him; her robe was next, followed by her blouse.

Tom was only left in his boxer briefs (his erection, once again, poked out of a little slit from the underwear he wore) while Ophelia still had her bra and knee socks on.

 _He is magnificent…._ Ophelia thought as her hungry hands smoothly caressed at his exposed chest.

Tom placed a hand over her right breast and leaned in closer to her neck, to bite into the soft, fair skin of that particular anatomy. _She's warm..._

The Slytherin placed his hard member against the Hufflepuff's wet entrance. Tom Riddle bit down on his bottom lip at the sight of Ophelia completely on her back, legs wide open for him to take her. He smirked as he began to rub his cock against her clit instead of giving her what was expected.

"Please," Ophelia's voice was distant. "Please, Tom?"

"Please what?" He tried to sound snappy and irritated with her, as if it was her fault that they were engaged in sex all over again. But his voice sounded...blissful. "Tell me what you want, come on, you _**filthy thing**_ _._ "

That got Ophelia going. She said the perfects words for that moment in time. "Tom, _**please,**_ fuck me."

Without hesitation he pushed his cock into her pussy-he didn't give her any chance to adjust to size, pace, of rhythm. A moan of satisfaction released itself from Tom as he enjoyed how tight his filthy Hufflepuff was. He pulled his cock all the way out of her before he slammed it back into her with as much force as he could muster.

"Fuck!" Ophelia moaned loudly from her Slytherin partner's movements. She got wetter because of it.

"You just know how to take it rough like this," Tom whispered lowly to Ophelia. "Getting shagged as if you were an animal." He kept his grip loose on her hips, but Tom knew he had to keep a hard, fast, and rough pace.

So Tom did that to her again and again and again: he'd pull himself out of her tight walls before he thrusted a forceful pump right back into her.

His bed shook badly, and it there wasn't a spell used to keep the bed fixed in its place-it would have loudly clashed against the wall.

The girl wrapped her legs around Tom's waist; one hand gripped on the boy's shoulder as he roughly pumped into her; and the other clenched down into the bed sheets.

" _Tom...Tom...Tom!_ …"

He could have gotten drunk off of those moans.

" _What Ophelia?"_

She loved how his voice was close to a playful taunt. Ophelia hungrily claimed the Slytherin prefect's lip as she climaxed and peaked due to the experience.

Tom felt Ophelia cum against his cock while he was in her-he didn't last much longer after that. The prefect had cum in the female sixth year.

He stayed with his lips against hers, with the same returned hunger as hers as their lips remained locked in a heated kiss.

A dizzying fatigue eventually covered the two sixth years; the hungry kisses came to a pause as Tom slowly pulled himself out of Ophelia. Sleep quickly fell upon the Slytherin and the Hufflepuff-it was needless to say they missed the rest of their classes for the day.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment-so if you see an error that needs to be fixed let me know. I will try to fix it as soon as I can.

Sorry for the wait-I know it took me a while to update!

Thank you for reading this, and a big thank you to those who favorite, follow, or just plain like the story. PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW IF YOU CAN!

* * *

 _November 17, 1943_

A small groan escaped Ophelia's mouth as her eyes slowly fluttered opened. She stretched her arms above her heads and turned her body over to the left side of the bed. Tom was still asleep next to her, his chest bare, his black hair a mess from sleep, and a calm expression on his face. So many comments in her head flurried in her thoughts all at once but only one true resolution screamed in her head: **get out.**

 _...Shit!_ Ophelia's body shot up from the bed. Tom's room was dark, pitch black almost but thankfully the girl had been in his room often enough to navigate through it in the dark. The half blood was as quiet as she could be in the earliest hours of the morning (Ophelia reckoned it must have been at least two in the morning)-she found her skirt, top, rain boots and robe thrown in a dark corner of the room. She rushed to put her clothing back on her body.

A tired voice interrupted her from putting her robe on. "Going somewhere?" Tom's head was propped up on the palm of one of his hands. His calm expression from sleep was now gone and replaced with his usual blank face.

Ophelia's breath hitched at the sight of him-Tom was damn near perfect. "I need to get back to my room," Ophelia's shoulders wiggled slightly as she fixed her robe. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Tom narrowed his eyes at the girl. "Maybe if you didn't try to leave in the middle of the night you wouldn't have." His voice was deep and raspy from being (accidentally) woken up by the Hufflepuff. Tom Riddle should have sounded menacing when he spoke to her, but it sounded more like a forceful invitation back to his bed.

"I'll try to keep that in mind." Ophelia let out a yawn and quietly walked over to the door, "If there comes a next time between us two."

Ophelia couldn't have seen it, but a smug grin broke on Tom's face. If he knew anything about people in general it is this: Anything done once _ **-once**_ -was not going to occur again. However if it was done a second time-it would happen again and again and again….Especially if he was the main person to initiate the contact between the two of them.

"Be sure not to run into any prefects on your way back to the Hufflepuff common rooms." Tom warned. "Wouldn't want any witnesses see your, what is it called, walk of shame?"

A small flicker of embarrassment ignited in the pit of the girl's stomach. _No.._.She thought to herself, _no prefect should be on duty at this time, right? Okay...so I should be fine._ Ophelia pretended to be unbothered by Tom's words. "I'll see you around. Good night, Tom." She quietly left the prefect's room and began her hopefully uneventful trek to her room.

Tom let out a yawn and let his head fall back on his pillow. It was almost refreshing to be as exhausted as he was now. Almost. The scent of cinnamon overpowered his senses as Tom tried to fight off sleep. _Dumb witch should have just stayed,_ Tom thought as his eyes came to close.

Something felt off to the Slytherin as Ophelia's presence faded farther and farther away from him.

* * *

Dumbledore had a knack for being in the right place at the right time (in his case) just like Ophelia seemed to have a knack for being at the right place and the wrong time (that was debatable though.) Who knew why the professor roamed the halls of Hogwarts at the unruly hours of night but the Hufflepuff was probably not in a position to question her authorities.

 _I would have rather ran into a prefect!_

"Miss Darwin, what are you doing up?"

Ophelia smiled awkwardly at the Transfiguration Professor, as if his answer was somewhere in her stiff smile.

Dumbledore looked at the student with curiosity. "I was told by Lestrange today you missed my class due to an illness, yet here you are out of bed and active. In which case, you must not be too ill."

"Lestrange did?" Ophelia furrowed her brows in confusion. "But I never-." _Wait, didn't Tom say something about Lestrange's responsibility to handle their coursework?_

Dumbledore prodded on, "You never what, Miss Darwin?"

 _It's too late to lie now._ Ophelia decided to be honest with the professor. Off all the people she could easily lie to (Margo and Peter were mainly the only two on that list….Possibly her mother) she never could bring herself to lie to a man who seemed generally concerned about his students. Ophelia took in a sigh before she opened her mouth to speak. "I never asked Lestrange to relay that message-I usually try to avoid speaking to him at all costs, Professor."

"Ah," Dumbledore gave her a look, one with slight mischief in his eyes. He probably thought the girl skipped class on her own will and Lestrange tried to play her knight in shining armour. Dumbledore was certain since Darwin's and Lestrange's second year-the Slytherin pureblood's beady little eyes constantly drifted to the Hufflepuff's general direction. "So where were you then?"

Again, Ophelia figured it was too late to lie and spouted the truth off her tongue. "I...I ended up with Tom the past few hours." She saw the slight mischief in her professor's eyes quickly disappear-it was replaced with worry. "I was actually," Ophelia cleared her throat. "I just left his room not too long ago."

 _You should have lied_ , the thoughts in her heads were embarrassed by how suddenly open she became with the Transfiguration teacher.

"I see…" Dumbledore's voice trailed off. Questions swam in his head like a hurricane at a breakneck speed. He knew Ophelia was a good girl from a nice family, in a stable and consistent environment-Ophelia was not the type to be dark and bothered and haunted. Tom RIddle on the other hand was exactly that and more...It worried the professor to an extent about Ophelia and Tom-he usually never had to worry about that sort of thing but the broody young man's sudden want to spend more time with the half blood left him uneasy.

"So…" Ophelia started off, "How many points will be taken from Hufflepuff and what is my detention?"

Dumbledore only sighed and lightly patted the girl's shoulder as he walked away from her. "No points are to be taken from you, Miss Darwin-."

A smile broke out on Ophelia's face, "Oh, heavens, yes!"

"-But you should be weary of Tom, that is all I ask of you."

 _I was weary...I really was._ Ophelia nodded her head, she knew if there was a time to spill her guts to Dumbledore about anything or anyone it would be now. Though all she really had to give away was one incident of Tom using the _Cruciatus Curse-_ and even then, if it that was all she had to give-was an accusation from a sixteen year old really going to do anything?

 _Do I even have have to guts to do that?_ Ophelia immediately knew the answer as soon as she asked herself that. No...Ophelia Darwin didn't have the guts to turn on..well...She just didn't have the guts.

"Professor," The half-blooded witch started out, "You needn't worry about me. I'm sorry I missed your class." Ophelia's voice softened, "It won't happen again."

Dumbledore merely looked on at the student, as if that alone was going to let Ophelia know she'd be fine and back to her normal routine. "Hurry back to your room." The Professor's voice was soft.

Ophelia only nodded her head once at the Professor and did just was suggested of her.

* * *

Once in the girls' dorm room, Ophelia found Margo fast asleep in her bed.

Why Margo was in Ophelia's bed and not her own bed was beyond the half-blood.

Margo's arms were crossed against her chest, her blonde hair was littered with pink rollers, and a muggle copy of _'A Midsummer's Night Dream'_ was tossed off to the right side of the bed.

The half-blooded witch only shook her head at the sight of the pure-blooded witch and crawled into bed. Ophelia woke up Margo in doing so.

"Where have you been?" Margo's voice was quick and loud even if she was doing her best to whisper. "Why are you still in your school robes?"

Ophelia only snuggled into her pillows.

"Pipa!" Margo poked her friend's face. "You were supposed to help me understand Shakespeare!"

"I can't help you understand Shakespeare. I can barely understand Divination." Ophelia swatted Margo's finger away from her face. She sighed and picked the book up and flipped through the pages. _Thank Merlin this copy has pictures!_ "Basically, it is a love triangle with four people-."

"Wouldn't that make it a love square-."

"-It also has to do with, like, magic and toying around with people and love."

Margo smiled. "So like us!"

Ophelia frowned. "No. Not like us." _Who even was 'us'-wizards and witches?_

"Fine." Margo snuggled into Ophelia's bed and gave her friend a teasing look. "More like you and Tom then, instead of Peter and I."

At first Ophelia was going to comment on how Margo finally admitted to there being a 'thing' between her and Peter, but Ophelia's mind pretty much paused at the other comparison that was made. "Tom and I?" Ophelia questioned. She tried to keep her cool, slowly in her head, Ophelia tried to remember if she ever told Margo anything out of the ordinary.

"Believe me Pipa," Margo said as she stifled a yawn. "Tom seems like the type to toy with you, as nice as he is. I have heard so many rumors about Tom and so many other girls. I heard he and Selene Sharpe-. "

 _He isn't nice, at all._ Ophelia only yawned and pulled a blanket cover over her body. "Goodnight, Margo."

"But I bet you anything, he probably would be a good shag." Margo chuckled. "If you ever happen to find out, let me know."

A small flare of jealousy and insecurity heated Ophelia up for a moment. It took Ophelia a few seconds to realize that Margo was only joking and only really had a focus on Peter Elwood.

Relief settled over Ophelia. "I said goodnight, Margo."

"Goodnight Pipa."

Both girls only got five more hours of sleep before they woke up again.

* * *

Tom saw Ophelia enter the Great Hall with her books tucked close to her chest. He watched as she took her usual spot at the Hufflepuff table-across from her friends.

An unfamiliar static like sensation started at the pit of his stomach as Tom continued to watch the half-blooded witch. _I'm probably still tired,_ the young man thought as he pushed the food on his plate around. _Which, I really wouldn't have been if that dumb witch didn't leave in the middle of the night._

He glared on unsuspectedly at Ophelia's form. How could someone be so unaware they were being watched?

Tom frowned.

He hated her.

He hated her for how oblivious she was.

He hated her for how simple minded she could be.

He hated her for her sincerity she seemed to constantly have for him.

Most of all: he hated her lack of serious ambition. Don't ask Tom why, he hated that the most about her. He was just so certain that since they met-that was his biggest pet peeve about Ophelia and it would stay that way.

Being too caught up in his own rambles about a specific Hufflepuff; Tom Riddle didn't notice the shifty glance Lestrange gave him.

Lestrange nudged Malfoy and once he got Malfoy's attention- Lestrange gestured carefully the their leader (who was still in a deep contemplation of how much he could not stand Ophelia).

Malfoy donned a look of slight disgust when he took note of the half-blood their lord, leader, and master was looking at. He was _not_ interested in following a leader who pinned for a girl who was born from a squib and mudblood. The thought of that alone made Malfoy shudder.

Lestrange concealed his happiness about Malfoy's reaction. If he could get Malfoy to agree with him-he could get the others to agree with him as well.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter. I also do not own the lyrics to 'People Will Say We're in Love' or the source it came from. I own nothing!

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter and this is a long so it might have a bunch of errors. Let me know and I will fix it as soon as I can.

This story is rated 'M' for a reason-there is kidnapping in this chapter and fantasy based violence. You've been warned.

Thank you for reading this! Thank you to all those who favorite and follow this series! Please let me know what you think by leaving a review. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

 _November 18, 1943_

Abraxas Malfoy was one who knew and followed the unspoken rules of the wizarding hierarchy. He had to, he was a Malfoy and acted as such. Purebloods were refined, poised, confident, rich and cultured. Most importantly, they were _pure_ \- which meant they would never dare touch, lust, or pine for anything that wasn't as pure as their blood.

Lestrange knew this. Dolohov knew this. Nott knew this. Avery knew this. _All_ of the members in Slytherin knew this, for Merlin's sake. Though why, the very heir of Slytherin seemed to take more of an interest in a half-blood was beyond him. Malfoy should have known that Ophelia Darwin and Tom Riddle-the heir of Slytherin-would do more than 'study'.

The platinum haired male was almost irked that Lestrange was the one to make the observation first. Then Lestrange suggested to do away with Tom and that Malfoy and him should step up and take over things. Until, of course Tom came back to his senses….Abraxas wasn't an idiot like Nott but he also wasn't completely sold on the idea that Lestrange could take on Tom- _fucking_ -Riddle. No, Abraxas had a plan to save his skin in case things went terribly, horribly, wrong.

Classes had long ended for the day and Ophelia found herself in the library, comfortably hidden from Margo in the event more questions about _'A Midsummer's Night Dream'_ came about. In the same breath, Ophelia also did not want to sit around and listen to Peter talk about Quidditch for the millionth time. So the library was where she'd waste her time today. The half-blooded witch didn't even have any assignments to read on or write about. The brunette girl was literally holed in a corner of the library with her gaze focused on the outside world she got to observe from a window.

This was one of the rare moments Ophelia didn't have to think or second guess herself, because she was sure she did that often enough. Her mind drifted off to her parents, to her Poppa, and their new home on the countryside.

 _Write a letter to dad, tell him about seeing a unicorn but leave out everything else….Write a letter to mum, ask her about Shakespeare...Write a letter to Poppa, ask him how boring new home on countryside is...Ask Poppa if he's heard any more new songs._

Ophelia began to absentmindedly twirl her brown hair with her pointer finger, and a song started to fill her head.

' _ **...**_ _ **Why do they think up stories that link my name with yours?**_

 _ **Why do the neighbors gossip all day behind their doors?**_

 _ **I know a way to prove what they say is quite untrue**_

 _ **Here is the gist, a practical list of don'ts for you**_

 _ **Don't throw bouquets at me**_

 _ **Don't please my folks too much**_

 _ **Don't laugh at my jokes too much**_

 _ **People will say we're in love**_

 _ **Don't sigh and gaze at me**_

 _ **Your sighs are so like mine**_

 _ **Your eyes mustn't glow like mine**_

 _ **People will say we're in love**_

 _ **Don't start collecting things**_

 _ **Give me my rose and my glove**_

 _ **Sweetheart, they're suspecting things**_

 _ **People will say we're in love…'**_

"Darwin?"

Ophelia nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice that broke the song in her mind's jukebox. The teen whipped around in a quick second to see the owner of the voice; she saw bright blonde hair and a male figure and knew who called out her name. Ophelia titled her head off to the side-an act of confusion for sure. "Malfoy?" A small, half smile worked its way to her face. "Uh-hello?"

Malfoy looked at the Hufflepuff before him. "Yes, hello." He observed the girl before him for less than a minute. Honestly, what was her appeal? (Or could he just not see it because he prefered pure-blooded witches?)

A tense silence settled between the two of them. The Hufflepuff's half smile faltered and she only arched one of her eyebrows at the boy. She knew that Abraxas Malfoy wouldn't go out of his way to say 'hello' to her for no damn reason.

"Do you need something?" Ophelia took a careful step away from the boy, the look in Malfoy's eyes told her something was amiss. "Are you feeling ill?"

Malfoy drew out his wand and pointed it at the girl. "Sorry, you'll have to forgive me for this in the future."

 _Oh, shit!_ Ophelia tried to move as fast as she could the moment she saw the wand pointed at her.

It could go without saying, but, Ophelia was simply not fast enough to outrun magic.

" _Petrificus Totalus."_

 _No! No! No!_ Ophelia screamed in her head as her body suddenly went cold and stiff. With a loud bang, Ophelia's body fell to the hard floor.

Malfoy's footsteps drew in closer to her until Ophelia could see him stand over her inanimate body.

It was official. Ophelia definitely _hated_ Tom's little gang of spoiled boys.

* * *

"Tom."

"Professor Dumbledore."

"A moment of your time, please."

The Slytherin easily raked an excuse. "I can't right now, Professor." Tom tried not to sound smug as he let the next sentence fall out of his mouth. "I have some pre-arranged engagements to attend to."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at the boy through his crescent spectacles. "None of them involving Ophelia Darwin, I hope?" His tone might have been even but there was an edge to it.

One Tom had heard that specific tone of voice multiple times over. _The man was a nuisance!_ The teen did his best to keep calm and cool in front of the older male. "No," Tom started out, "She and I are only friends-."

Tom was not pleased when Dumbledore interrupted him.

"Is that what it is called now, 'friends'?"Dumbledore's eyes were glued intently on the young man. "Funny thing, I may be an old timer but I am almost sure _'friends_ ' don't go sneaking about at night from the other's room."

A lie flew out of Tom's mouth on impulse. "She was tired from Herbology and she just happened to fall asleep in the Slytherin common rooms." It was a bit harder to keep calm.

 _Ophelia never mentioned she bumped into a professor that particular night!_ He could have fumed over the lack of knowledge of this one detail but thought it was better to keep his collected demeanor.

If Dumbledore were like any of the other professors at Hogwarts, Tom knew, Dumbledore would have believed him in an instant. Slughorn and Dippet would have believed Tom in a heartbeat...But Dumbledore was an annoying, old professor who had a knack for sticking his nose in affairs that did not involve him to begin with.

"Odd." Dumbledore said aloud. "Lestrange told me that Miss Darwin was ill as ill could be and stayed in _her_ bed-not the Slytherin common rooms."

Tom clenched his teeth, stiffly put his hands behind his back, then balled his hands into a tight fist. Not once, did he tell Lestrange to do anything such as that. _That stupid idiot._ "It would seem," Tom began, "that something isn't right then. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I am not here to figure out who is lying and who is telling the truth." Dumbledore didn't care about that. "Whatever your intentions are with Miss Darwin, it would be wise for both of you to stay in your own rooms like the rules mandate you both do."

 _Who the bloody hell are you to tell me what to do?_

To the Slytherin prefect, the words that came out of the older wizard's mouth made one thing clear to him. Dumbledore was worried about Ophelia.

Tom said nothing and walked away from the old man he thought to be absolutely insufferable. He made his way to Forbidden Forest, Malfoy had told him earlier that Lestrange took the liberty to organize an impromptu meeting.

At first, Tom was pleased. He thought Lestrange would share some useful information or thought Lestrange took the initiative to haze the newer members of the Knights of Walpurgis. In other words, Tom thought Lestrange was making himself useful.

No, Lestrange was still a downright idiot.

* * *

Ophelia laid still on the dirty forest ground. If she could have, she would have screamed bloody murder. She hated the Forbidden Forest, she hated Tom's little gang, and she hated how all she could do was wallow in fear what the horrid group of Slytherin boys had planned.

She recognized all of them off the bat. None of them stood around her body but their voices could still be heard.

"I say we do the counter curse first, rough her up a good amount then when Riddle gets here, we kick it up a notch." That was Dolohov.

"We rough her up?" Rosier questioned. "No-let Riddle do it. That can be his punishment for-."

"For what?" Malfoy cut Rosier off, and whispered lowly. "All we know is that Lestrange is accusing our Lord for bedding this filth. Just like we all know that Lestrange would take the very same filth to bed if _he_ had the chance." Although, Malfoy's reasoning sounded more forced.

 _Filth,_ Ophelia screamed in her head. _I am not filth! How do you want me to forgive you in the 'future' if you're calling me filth on top of bringing me here in the first place! BASTARD!_

"Sounds like you would too, eh, Malfoy?" That was Nott's voice. "Sounds like you're defending that mudblood."

"He might have a point." Avery started. "But I think even if he was wrong...We could take on Riddle."

A deep feeling of stress and despair consumed Ophelia: these boys were really as horrible as she thought them to be! The Hufflepuff heard a new set of feet arrive to the scene. Her heart fluttered in a combination of fear and hope. _Tom?_

"Hello, gorgeous."

The half-blood's heart sank to the pit of stomach as a new member hovered above her body. Lestrange looked at her with his beady little eyes-in his mind-he was undressing her. In his mind-Ophelia was enjoying every sordid thing he acted out on her. A greasy smile came to his face….Honestly if he wasn't a creep-Ophelia could have found him attractive.

Though now, nothing would ever change Ophelia's opinion of Lestrange. _You ugly, vile, inbred, toad look-a-like! Don't look at me!_ She wanted to cry. _Don't you fucking look at me!_

Lestrange pointed his wand at her-in an instant the _Petrificus Totalus_ spell went away.

Ophelia quickly sat up and crawled away backwards from Lestrange. Immediately, the other Slytherin boys leapt closer to her.

She could run-they could curse her. She could draw out her wand, but there was one of her and more of them. She could scream but who the bloody hell would hear her? She also wasn't sure if she was in a proper state of mind to apparate out of the situation at hand...What if they just kidnapped her all over again?

 _Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out, get out!_ Ophelia made up her mind as she crawled away. A rock scraped itself on her palm. Immediately, Ophelia brought the rock up with her hand, and threw it at random, towards no specified person.

A loud crack echoed around. "Ouch! You bitch!"

Ophelia jumped up and started to run; she didn't bother look back at who the rock hit.

" _Bombarda!"_

The Hufflepuff ducked behind a tree, bits of dirt and twigs zoomed around her. Ophelia choked back a panicked gasp and tried to control her breathing; her hand was shaky as she reached for wand. The Slytherin boys were coming in closer. In her mind, Ophelia counted to three before she jumped out. She pointed her wand up into the air for a quick second, then she twirled it counter clockwise before the wand pointed at the group of Slytherins. A wild rage of fire blasted in their direction.

" _Protego!"_

Ophelia ran again. Curses were still being thrown at her. She stuffed her wand in her robe pocket and sprinted away.

Tears streamed down her cheeks; her head pounded; her heart was frantic; and she could tell her legs had multiple scratches along them.

"Ophelia! Stop!"

A strong pair of arms descended on her and pulled the frightened girl into a firm body.

"Get off of me!" Ophelia screamed and slammed her hands repeated on the figure's chest. She knew that voice, she knew the hands of who grabbed her. This was all _his_ fault!

Tom grimaced at the young lady who was practically throwing a physical temper tantrum. He moved his hands to wrist and held them close to his chest. "No! You need to stop!"

"This is all your fault!" Ophelia hissed as she tried to wiggle out of his grasp. "Let me go!"

"I haven't even done anything!" Tom roared back in disbelief. "You stupid witch! Stop your fussing!" He held onto her tighter. _Why she is fighting me? Why is she even in the forest at this time?_

Ophelia opened her mouth to let out an insult of her own but someone else's voice beat her to it.

"See lads?" Lestrange spoke, "I told you our beloved Master was getting up close and personal with the wrong type of witch. By no means, is that a wizard I would pledge my loyalty too."

Ophelia stopped fighting Tom's hold on her and froze. _How did I even get in this mess?_

Tom glared at the group of Slytherin boys in front of him. _Did Lestrange really think this up?...Didn't think the cowards had it in him._ Lestrange's cowardice must not have been outweighed by sheer idiocy-no matter-it wasn't like he was an actual threat to Tom...It did appear though, Lestrange was a threat to a certain Hufflepuff of his.

Tom released Ophelia's wrist and pushed her, rather forcefully into the trunk of the nearest tree. Without a thought to spare, instinctively, Tom grabbed his wand and had it at the ready.

A small gasp escaped her mouth as her back came into contact with the rough bark. Dull green eyes scanned the scene... _Wait,_ Ophelia took another look. _Malfoy's missing._

"Let me get this straight…" Tom took an aggressive step towards Lestrange. A dark and venomous aura filtered the area-all due to Tom and Tom alone. "You're upset...because I'm _fucking_ the witch _you_ want?"

Ophelia didn't know if she should have felt insulted or flattered... _Insulted...Insulted for sure._

Lestrange quickly fired back with a retort. "No! It has more to do with the fact that you are an heir of Slytherin and you taint your body with a witch who isn't pure! A master who doesn't follow his own teachings is-."

Tom's voice cut through the air abruptly. _"Crucio!"_

Ophelia flinched at the sudden swift of control, it scared her and she lost her balance. Ophelia nearly fell to the forest floor but she felt an unfamiliar set of arms catch her.

Dull green eyes narrowed"...Malfoy?"

The blonde male only gave her an uninterested glance of acknowledgement before he turned to watch what was unfolding in front of him. =

An inhuman scream littered the air as Lestrange crumpled down in a heap to the ground.

"Anyone else!" Tom screamed at the rest of the Slytherin boys. "Come on! You were all so tough standing next to that fool." He pointed his wand back down at Lestrange. " _Crucio!"_

Another blood curling scream shot through the air.

"Be tough…" A sinister smile came to Tom's face, he now pointed his wand at Dolohov. "I am sure you backed Lestrange up on this didn't you?"

Ophelia watched on with horror when Tom didn't even give Dolohov a chance to reply. With an elegant flick of Tom's wand-terrible welts formed on Dolohov's face.

 _He likes this.._.Ophelia thought as she watched her Slytherin put on painful curse after painful cure after another on the group that opposed him. It was a terrible sight to see...No doubt Nott, Avery, Rosier, and Dolohov were in pain but Lestrange had it worse for sure.

Carefully, Ophelia looked over to Abraxas Malfoy and realized he was terrified out of his mind as he watched along with her. _Run!_ Her thoughts told, _leave Malfoy to get a few curses and hexes thrown at him! He brought you here in the first place!_

Yes...But Malfoy also was the least active in the group plot.

 _He just wanted to save his own skin!_

So? There's nothing wrong with that!

Ophelia took a deep breath and let out a sigh when she thought Tom was done. Carefully, she walked towards the Slytherin prefect. "Tom?" Her voice was calm and low, the complete opposite of how she actually felt. "Tom."

Slowly the handsome young man turned around; an obvious look of unmeasured anger in his brown eyes. But his gaze went past her and straight to Malfoy. "Get over here you worthless prick! Malfoy!" Tom would have tore his way to the pure-blooded male but he felt a sudden pressure against his chest.

"Tom." Ophelia did her best to remain calm.

He snapped his gaze down at her and without thinking his hand went for her neck. He didn't apply pressure to the girl's neck, he wasn't trying to hurt her. Instead he carefully turned used the Hufflepuff's neck to turn the owner's head from side to side. Tom said nothing but he did have a crazed look in his eyes still.

"Malfoy," Ophelia started up, "he was the only one opposed to Lestrange's plan, you know."

Tom still said nothing, he turned his gaze to Malfoy then back to the witch he held by the neck. "Is that right?"

"Yes." Ophelia answered honestly. She didn't want to see any more curses or jinxes thrown and nodded her head feverishly. She could at least try to save Malfoy from some pain.

While he was certain Ophelia was being honest, he still used _Legilimency_ on her to be sure. Malfoy was in the clear.

A swift and simple command escaped Tom's lips. "Leave us." He looked down at the bodies that laid on the ground. "I said leave us!"

Malfoy simply nodded his head and apparated in a blink of an eye (he didn't need to be told twice). Slowly, Nott and Rosier picked themselves off the ground and apparated off as well. Avery limped over to Lestrange and grabbed a hold of his robe and apparated shortly after.

It left one witch and one wizard alone in the woods.

Ophelia's gut twisted wickedly as Tom released his grip on her neck. She wasn't sure what to make of the events she'd witness.

Tom tried to calculate if he should drop an ' _Obliviate'_ spell Ophelia as she drew her dainty hands away from his chest. He wasn't sure he wanted to make her forget what he'd done-he wanted her to remember his display of power, no matter how littler and brief.

They both decided to pretend nothing happened and that there was nothing to be done.

Ophelia was the first one to break the silence. "Could-could you walk me to my room?"

Tom didn't give her a verbal answer. Instead he reached for Ophelia's wrist (not her hand) and lead the way back to the castle-he kept her close to his side. Tom didn't let go for a second.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I also do not own 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'-Shakespeare does. I only own the plot, this series, this chapter, and any other original characters you may notice.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter and this is a long so it might have a bunch of errors. Let me know and I will fix it as soon as I can.

Thank you for reading this! Thank you to all those who favorite and follow this series! Please let me know what you think by leaving a review. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Also a big thank you to those who review! It lets me know that this story is being read and doing decently! Anyways-enjoy the chapter.

* * *

 _November 20, 1943_

 _Dear Mum,_

 _I'm fine. I definitely was not irresponsible at any point in time this week and everything is fine…._

Ophelia grimaced at the parchment paper in front of her. _What a terrible way to start a letter with!_

If Wendy Darwin read this letter, immediately she would know something was off with her daughter. The Hufflepuff bunched the would be letter to her mother and tossed it into the bin that was closest to her bed. Maybe a letter to Ben Darwin instead of Wendy Darwin would be best for now.

 _Dear Dad,_

 _How are things back home? Things are the same as ever here, snow actually started to fall yesterday morning. I was actually kind of relieved-better for it snow yesterday than the day I got kidnapped and possibly stoned beyond injury…._

An irritated huff escaped the brunette's mouth and with a blink she instantly crumpled and tossed the letter she'd been writing to her father to the bin as well. Ophelia was still stuck on the events that happened not too long ago. She had every right to be! She was scared out of her wits! She scared of the bratty, spoiled, men-children the Slytherins were. She was scared of how easy it was for Tom to be a serious cause of pain for multiple people at was scared how easy it was for all of them-the bratty Slytherins and Tom-to act like that event never happened.

At first it made Ophelia feel like that was all in her head; that it never even happened. As if Ophelia dreamt the whole thing up and it was only a bad nightmare that went too far...But Ophelia knew it wasn't in her head so maybe that would not be enough to go crazy. It was only enough to make her fear Tom for the rest of her natural life. It didn't matter much that he saved her, nor did it matter that he walked her safely to the Hufflepuff entrance.

She also hadn't been able to sleep well since the incident and maybe that why her mind was so scattered?

Ophelia sighed and began to write another letter.

 _Dear Poppa,_

 _I want to come home. Remember that Riddle person I've told you about since I've been in Hogwarts? Turns out he isn't mean. No. Actually, he is evil incarnate with the hormones of a teenaged boy!_

"Oh, sod it all!" Ophelia threw the letter for her Poppa away as well.

" _ **Language**_!" Margo hissed from her bed. The muggle copy of _A Midsummer's Night Dream_ by Shakespeare was in her hand. Margo tsked at her friend as she turned a page, "You've been very irritated as of late, Pipa."

The brunette rolled her eyes at the blonde. "It's been a rough week, Margo."

"A rough week?" Margo scoffed, " _ **Rough**_ would not be how I put it. Yesterday, Lestrange walked by us and Peter and I saw that mean look you gave him! Poor thing ran away from your mean __expression."

 _Him? Poor thing?! I am the 'poor thing' here!_

"Whatever." Ophelia quietly mumbled under her breath. She picked herself off her bed and began to put her writing utensils away for the weekend. "It's just been a rough one, okay?"

Margo was going to open her mouth, she was going to propose going to Hogsmeade in the next hour to help lighten her friend's terrible attitude. Instead Ophelia's sleepy expression as she struggled to put on her boots and winter coat only warranted a confused look from the blonde. "Where are you going, Pipa?"

Ophelia gave a tired sigh, "I need to clear my head." She worked on the buttons on her winter coat, "I know I am in a foul mood right now and I need to go calm down. Then when I am better, I will come back." This particular method seemed to work wonders for Ben Darwin whenever Poppa or Wendy Darwin were too much to take in all at one setting. Maybe Ophelia took after her father in that sense-the need to get away to get into a better mood.

Margo only bit the bottom of her lip and nodded. It's not like Margo would try to stop Ophelia for trying to deal with her own emotions like a proper lady.

As Ophelia made her way out of the Hufflepuff dorm room, she ran into Peter.

Without being warned, Peter spoke the first thing that came to his mind. "You look like death."

Ophelia sighed and gently brushed past her friend. "I'll see you in a bit, Peter."

The pure-blooded male would have asked if is she was going to the infirmary and if she wanted company, but by the time he thought to ask that question, Ophelia was ways away from the Hufflepuff house.

The delightful sound and feel of snow under her boots calmed the half-blooded witch's nerves. Granted the cold was terrible, snow still fell from the sky, her skin began to dry out, and her hair was all over the place-but hey-calm under not so perfect weather conditions was still calm.

Onward Ophelia wondered, until she found herself at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A frown etched into her face, but besides a change in facial muscle movement Ophelia stayed in her spot. White powder was all she saw. Snow encased every tree and branch; snow covered up the usual paths that were made by students and teachers alike; snow erased the dirty, hard forest floor completely.

 _Christ,_ Ophelia thought as her eyes darted around, _string up some holiday lights and put in a house with a chimney a-smoke and it looks like a winter seasonal card._

No matter how pretty and safe something looked like, if it was terrible underneath all the features that made it pretty-it was still terrible...At least according to Wendy Darwin. Ophelia simply hated the Forbidden Forest and the frown on her face still remained as she turned away from that horrid place.

Her body felt sluggish as she trudged to the library: it was always nice and warm in there.

* * *

Tom wanted absolutely _nothing_ to do with his so called 'Knights of Walpurgis'. They proved to be useless and worse of all: lacked any type of determination to carry out their _own_ plans. Merlin, he was actually going to trust them to help rebuild the wizarding world in his image?

A rough scoff escaped the Slytherin's mouth, not even Malfoy was completely safe from his wrath. _At this rate,_ Tom thought bitterly to himself as he tried to skim through two different books at once, _Ophelia has a better chance at being my right hand man._

He found himself concluding that more often than not. It made sense in its own way: Tom needed someone smart enough to help him if need be-but not someone smarter than him. He'd also needed someone who feared him yet stayed loyal in spite of their fear toward him. He'd need someone who would be a mindless follower but still had enough common sense to function on their own...Plus, Tom could fuck her as a way to relieve stress if need be.

Ophelia Darwin was a damn near perfect, cookie cutter mold for those things...But for _**fuck's sake**_ Tom knew she lacked the ambition and vigor he had, on top of how different they viewed the world of magic. That alone could possibly, maybe, might be a turn off during sex.

He wanted complete and utter rule over all things tangled up in magic, and yes, so what if he thought only pure-bloods should be allowed to stay and practice it? Once he got that much power, who would stop him?

Whereas Ophelia wanted...Tom stopped his attempt to correlate and cross reference ' _History of Dark Magic and Curses'_ with ' _Magical Laws and Rules from The Dark Ages.'_ Obviously, Tom Riddle knew exactly what he wanted in life but not once did the want of a certain Hufflepuff ever cross his mind. _What would Ophelia want in life?_ He tapped a finger on the edges of the books; the half-blooded witch probably didn't want much.

A loud creak echoed through the library and Tom peaked up from his books. He didn't smile, smirk, or express any other emotion that could have hinted anything.

 _Speak of the devil,_ Tom thought as he immediately recognized the female who rushed into the library, _and she shall appear._

Brown eyes met green eyes from across the way. Ophelia looked at Tom with a slightly stunned expression and wondered to herself if she should turn and run away.

She didn't.

It was cold outside-it was warm inside where she was, _**hell no**_ Ophelia wasn't going to turn and run back to the cold!

Tom arched his perfect eyebrows at the female who walked to his table, there were specks of snow littered on her winter coat, some even in her hair which was a mess, on her usual peach colored face- a dash of red stained her cheeks from being out in the cold.

"Went out for a stroll, I see." Tom leaned away from the table and positioned himself more comfortably against the chair he sat on. He crossed his arms against his chest; his button up shirt didn't even wrinkle in the slightest. "Tell me how many other students enjoyed a lovely, warm, stroll on this sunny day while you were out? Was Slughorn going for a walk as well?"

 _Ah, so we're still pretending nothing happened then._ Ophelia sat down across from Tom and worked her way out of her winter coat. "I was going crazy stuffed in my dorm room while trying to write a letter to my family." Ophelia reached for one of the books in front of Tom and flipped it over so she could properly read it. "I needed to clear my mind for a minute."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Yes because it is so grueling to write a letter to your parents , you need to clear your mind." His voice was bitter.

His father was mudblood and his mother was a squib. Her mother was a mudblood and her father was a squib.. _.Honestly_ , Tom sneered at her, _she could be as ambitious as me…_

"This paper for our History and Magic lesson was due three days ago," Ophelia furrowed her eyebrows. "Unless this is a different essay for a different class, but with the same topic as focus?"

Tom rolled his eyes at her, "I got an extension."

"Of course you did." She shook her head and pushed the book back towards Tom. "Perfect, prefect Tom Riddle. The champion prince of Slytherin, no one would ever suspect-."

 _Oh shit_...Ophelia's green eyes widened as she stopped herself from finishing the sentence.

It was too late-Tom figured what Ophelia was going to say. The blank expression of apathy was replaced with a careful hint of malice; without even so much as a blink of an eye, he apparated behind Ophelia.

The girl stood up as soon as she felt Tom behind her, Ophelia turned around so she could at least be face to face with boy she knew to be dangerous. The only barrier between them was a wooden chair.

"Suspect?" Tom breathed lowly, "suspect, what?" He placed his left hand on the top of chair and gripped it.

 _I should think more before talking!_ Ophelia backed away slightly, only to have the back of her legs hit the table behind her. "Nothing, Tom. They wouldn't suspect anything."

Tom forcefully pushed the wooden chair out of his way; Ophelia flinched. Sometimes, Tom found it too easy, too quick to get reactions out of her and he rather enjoyed that. _Do I feel merciful today_? The distance against their bodies disappeared as he had one leg comfortably pushed in between Ophelia's inner thighs and another leg pushed along the outside of her leg.

Tom brought one of his hands to the Hufflepuff's right hip, the other hand was about to go for the neck.

A silent gasp escaped almost made its way out of the girl's mouth; Ophelia knew where his hands wanted to go. So instead, she placed her left hand over the base of her throat as a protective measure.

Tom tsked at Ophelia. So she could cover her neck? There were other parts of her that could be grabbed. The hand that lingered in the air quickly attached itself to her brown hair; Tom gripped it firmly and tugged her hair back...He was slightly shocked that Ophelia's hair felt soft. (Tom had expected rough and scratchy sensation-not a pleasant one.)

"I want you to listen, Ophelia." Tom tugged at the hair in his grasp, it made the female's head title back and exposed the areas of her neck her dainty hand couldn't cover. "Listen closely-the day someone suspects me or something…" He couldn't help but look at Ophelia's delicately arched neck-Merlin. A low groan escaped Tom's lips and he tugged her hair again.

"That hurts." Ophelia whispered to his deaf ears as he soon brought his grip closer to the base of her scalp.

He ignored her. "If one day, for whatever reason, I am accused of _anything-_ you will be the first person on my list." Tom felt Ophelia tense as he said tense as said that.

Ophelia felt slightly insulted. "If you are ever accused of anything, I'd go to your lovely little gang members first. They were the ones who accused you of liking _ **filth**_ , remember?"

"And?" Tom snickered, "You saw what happened-they got what they deserved. I can make the same thing happen to you" A memory echoed in Tom's mind and a small smirk came to his lips. "I'll curse you."

The first time Tom Riddle had said that, they were barely considered first years and he knew exactly zero curses then.

Tom seemed to know enough curses now.

Fear slowly coursed through Ophelia, but she couldn't let it show. "Not once, Tom." Ophelia started sternly as she tried to look him in the eyes. "Not once have I actually given you a reason to curse me."

If Tom knew how to, he was sure he'd take comfort in her words. If he had been a plain wizard who was weakened by human emotions and the imperfection of his childhood till now-Tom would have considered that is was him _and_ Ophelia against the world. Of course that was 'if', and no matter how _**shitty**_ his early years had been-Tom knew it carved him into a force to be reckoned with.

His little smirk went away, he released his hold on the brunette's hair and simply moved the hold to her left hip. Tom's strong fingers pressed into the fabric of her skirt as he brought her hips close to his. Tom brought his lips close to Ophelia's ear and whispered, "Then you of all people should keep it that way."

"I do...keep it that way…" Ophelia whispered for him. It hurt, emotionally. The feeling of complete distrust and lack of consideration he had for her tied knots in her hurt soul-at least Ophelia was sure that was what it felt like. A sigh flew from her lips, the kind of sigh one might even hear from someone who was beginning to give up on something. "You of all people should know that."

The broken and sullen look on Ophelia's face made Tom want to push his lips against hers, he wanted to kiss her until those lips of hers were red and swollen... _Maybe, I prefer how she looks when she is sad?_ He wasn't going to kiss her though, not when Ophelia practically told Tom that he should know she'd never do anything to be cursed by him... Not yet at least. _Bullshit,_ Tom thought, _complete bullshit._

"Look," Ophelia broke Tom out of his thoughts. "I should leave you be-sorry I bothered you. Good luck on finishing up your essay." Her hands went to his torso to push him off, but he didn't budge. Ophelia pushed a little harder-still he refused to move. "Tom…" Ophelia's voice wavered.

 _Do you want her to stay? Yes or no?_

"I have to go."

 _Yes or no?_

"Tom."

 _Yes? No?_

"You need to be finishing up your assignment-not holding me hostage for the second time this week!"

 _Yes._

Tom's voice boomed with authority over Ophelia's. "Since you want me to believe you so bad about never having a reason to curse you-stay then."

That statement didn't make the Hufflepuff want to stay. "Do you want help you with your paper?" Ophelia's shoulders slumped, " Is that it? Tom, I don't think you need help-."

"You're right, I don't." Tom interrupted. "But you should stay." His words sounded like an aggressive invitation.

 _Fucking hell._ Ophelia's dull green eyes widened-she didn't understand what Tom wanted. "What? No-why can't-."

Lips crashed down into another set of lips, it silenced the half-blooded witch. Tom licked her bottom lip before forcefully slipping his tongue into her mouth, it deepened the kiss. A small gasp escaped Ophelia's mouth but soon she melted into his forceful kiss. The kiss only lasted for a minute before they had to pull away for air.

"Sit down, and stay." Tom demanded lowly; he kissed her neck but only after he placed a bite on it first.

Ophelia and Tom were in the library only for hour after that, they sat in silence as Tom's quill on parchment paper was the only sound between the two of them. Tom would look at Ophelia from the corner of his eye from time to time-her hand under her chin and the gaze in her eyes distant... _Maybe she was thinking about what she wanted in life?_

Without even trying, Tom read her mind. Tom slammed one of the books shut and stood up abruptly; he gathered his belongings and headed towards the library doors.

He left Ophelia alone in the warm library, shocked at his sudden shift in mood.

 _Love songs,_ Tom thought angrily to himself, _the stupid witch was thinking about love songs._

Eventually, Ophelia wandered back to the Hufflepuff house. She found Peter and Margo curled up on the common room couch, in front of the fire, both of them had copies of ' _A Midsummer's Night Dream'_ in their hands.

Ophelia couldn't help but smile at her friends... _At least they were happy, right?_


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I also do not own the lyrics used in this chapter. The lyrics used were written by Cole Porter for the song 'You'd be so nice to come home to.' I only the plot and any original characters you might notice.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter and this is a long so it might have a bunch of errors. Let me know and I will fix it as soon as I can.

Thank you for reading this! Thank you to all those who favorite and follow this series! Please let me know what you think by leaving a review. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Also a big thank you to those who review! It lets me know that this story is being read and doing decently! Let me know what you think or let me know what you think will happen next. Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

 _November 20, 1943_

 _...At least they're happy._

"God, Peter," Ophelia joked as she sat on a recliner next to the loveseat her friends were on. "It finally happened! You're finally learning how to read! Bless my eyes to have the pleasure to witness such an event!"

"Ha-ha-ha." Peter threw his head back as he forced his fake laugh. "Yes. Sometimes men like me have to read otherwise I'll just be a pretty face. " A smile came to Peter's lip and he nudged Margo's side. "My mother told me to worry about you girls who'd only use me my for my physique."

Margo smiled; her wide grin reminded both Peter and Ophelia that of a Cheshire cat. "Oh?" Margo put down her book. "Since we are on the topic of your physique, Peter, you need to cut back on the pudding."

Peter's eyes widened, his smile faded, the book in his hands was practically thrown behind him as they then darted defensively to his stomach. "Do I really?"

Ophelia chuckled lightly but said nothing as Peter began to start pinching himself in the abdomen. _What is he trying to grab at-a slab of muscle? I probably have more fat in my right pinky than he has in his entire body._

Margo's smile dropped as she tried to get Peter to listen to her. "No-no-no." The beautiful blonde shook her at the brunette boy, "I was kidding-stop pinching yourself, Peter-you still have a perfect six-pack." Margo locked her eyes with Ophelia's, "Right, Pipa?

The half-blooded witch arched an eyebrow and let out a coy smirk (something she must have learned from Tom, probably.)

"I don't know Margo-I've never seen Peter without a shirt on." Ophelia leaned closer to her friends on the loveseat, both hands tucked under her chin, and her smirk even wider. She must have resembled that aunt at every family gathering who always found the most inappropriate topic to focus on with her nieces and nephews. Ophelia tried to contain her giggles as she spoke. "Please, tell me how you know Peter has a perfect six-pack?"

Margo only turned red and Peter look genuinely confused himself. _Yes..._ Peter wondered, _how does Margo know I have a six-pack?_

Ophelia felt someone try to squeeze themselves into the recliner with her, she felt someone add pressure on top of her head, as if she was a personal armrest.

A male voice spoke up. "Elwood, are these ladies bullying you again?"

"William Zolotov," Ophelia started as she pushed his arm off her head, "You know we'd never do such a thing to our beloved Peter."

"Our beloved Peter is going to be the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team when I leave, remember?-"

 _Shit, I forgot Zolotov is a seventh year._

"We don't need him to be an emotional mess because some girls made fun of him."

William Zolotov, like the two other magic users Ophelia Darwin acquainted herself with, was a pure-blood. He had a long and narrow face, a slender nose, a weak jawline but a strong chin, and high cheek bones that practically stuck out. William had strawberry blonde hair, which was kept in an undercut style with his hair at the top combed neatly over to the side. Also for someone who could afford any type of clothing he wanted (not including the uniforms) he rather liked baggy, more plain looking clothes-which always boggled Margo and Peter. William Zolotov would joke with them that he under dressed because with a face as handsome as his-did he really even _need_ clothes?

A small look of distaste popped on Margo's face. "Speaking of girls and poking fun, that sweater is hideous."

Ophelia and Peter both turned their gaze over to William.

"Okay, so?" The seventh year started, "What do you want me to do about it?"

Margo smiled her Cheshire Cat smile.

The next thing Ophelia, Peter, and William knew-they suddenly made an impromptu visit to Hogsmeade. Margo spouted on about the fashion forward trends for winter; Ophelia internally rolled her eyes; all the while Peter and William chatted about Quidditch.

 _Back to the cold,_ Ophelia huffed quietly so Margo could talk.

* * *

"Is my sweater really that ugly?" William asked Ophelia as the two soon found themselves in one of the many shops in Hogsmeade. "This is a classic, knitted sweater."

"Classic sweaters don't look great with stains of who knows what on them." Ophelia chided as she looked through the clothes in the shop. Her arms were tucked and crossed neatly across her chest; she didn't have the money to buy the clothes that surrounded her and was scared if she touched even on piece of fabric, Ophelia feared that one touch would have ruined the clothing.

William Zolotov pointed to the stain on his left shoulder. "I am sure one of these stains has to be blood from when I got into a fist fight with Parkinson." William pointed to a dark stain on the bottom edge of his sweater. "I am almost positive this stain was when I puked my guts out because I drank too much."

"Ah, a rich boy who gets _into_ fights and _cannot_ control his liquor. How charming." Ophelia chuckled as she walked deeper into the men's clothing section.

"Oh, but I am-a true charmer." William stated off-handedly as he began to shift through a rack of new sweaters. His tone wasn't spiteful, bitter, or condescending. Hell, it didn't sound even 'matter- of-factly'. ..Unlike someone else Ophelia spent the earlier part of her day with.

William's voice was mixture of funny and overconfident.

"If that thought helps you sleep at night, so be it, William." Ophelia whispered.

William immediately went over and picked the hanger of the rack; a faded yellow sweater with a shawl collar. He arched an eyebrow at the half-blooded witch. "Yellow? Is is because I am a Hufflepuff, you just assume I like yellow-."

Ophelia cut him off. "It matches your brown eyes and it helps to bring them out."

"How thoughtful of you." William started off with a joking tone. "I hear Ravenclaw is throwing a party tonight."

Margo and Peter were in the same shop as Ophelia and William, they toured the female section.

"Ravenclaw ?" Ophelia waved over at Margo and Peter's direction and gestured for them to come over. "Why are they throwing a party for?"

"Party?" Peter's ears picked up on that word quickly. "Where?"

"Ravenclaw, apparently." Ophelia answered.

"They'll be going into their social hibernation here soon, you know," William went on, "exams and such are upon us."

Peter smiled as if he was a child on Christmas morning. "May our glasses never empty!"

Margo sang her part, "May our livers be healthy."

Ophelia smiled as she finished their little chant. "And if we must leave a stranger's bed, let us be stealthy."

The eldest member of the Hufflepuff group only tilted his head to side with a look of confusion. _So,_ Zolotov thought, _do I have to make my words rhyme too? "_ So...are you lot coming with me to the party or not?"

* * *

"Again, my Lord," Lestrange whimpered as he bowed at Tom's feet. "I am sorry for my...transgressions against you."

Dolohov, Nott, Rosier, Avery, and even Malfoy were all present in the Slytherin common room. With exception of Malfoy (who had nothing to recover from to be so honest), the other members had recovered from their incidents in the forest.

A quiet rage bubbled inside of Tom but it was easy enough to ignore for the time being _. Nothing else better ruin this day._ Tom's jaw was locked in tense matter; teeth clamped down on teeth.

He was going to be merciful today towards the bastards who were so willing to cut him down and try to take his spot as leader. Tom decided that if he wanted to , indeed, extend his power and reach on all levels of the wizarding world: he needed as many pure-bloods as he could get.

The room was tense-all the pure-blooded boys awaited with a strained breath as to what words would come from the heir of Slytherin's mouth.

"Do not mistake this for weakness." Tom's charming voice echoed loudly around the Slytherin common room. "I will show a smear of forgiveness to you Lestrange." His voice slowly began to lace itself with venom. "You're too daft to realize what you've done."

An awkward laugh from Rosier was heard-he thought that was a joke of some sort and forced himself to laugh.

Tom silenced Rosier with a simple glance, not a glare, but a simple _**glance.**_ The heir of Slytherin spoke again. "Even though under no circumstance, will I forget your act of cowardice and spite. Nor will I forget how incapable any of you are when I'm not around." A cruel smile came onto Tom's lips. There was just something so pleasant about breaking a person's self esteem down into rubble. "Keep that in mind, for next time."

Tom knew very fine and well that there would never be a next time.

Malfoy walked over to Tom, he practically kicked Lestrange off to the side as he approached their leader. "So are we back to being Knights of Walpurgis?"

Tom narrowed his eyes at the young man with platinum blonde hair. "Why does it matter?"

Malfoy kept a hold on his calm demeanor. "No reason-just curious to see if we had another meeting?" Being a member, or knight, of a selective group meant little to Malfoy. He just wanted to make sure that he was still in relatively decent standing with Tom Riddle.

 _How trivial._ Tom frowned, "Worry about something else, Malfoy."

With those that flew out of Tom's mouth; Nott opened his. Nott went on and on about a party being hosted by the bookish Ravenclaw students.

That quiet rage inside of Tom was slowly building up to a storm of rage. _Perfect._..Tom grimaced as he thought to himself. _The night I actually have to do my prefect duties, I might actually have to work and watch for other people's well being._

A small part of his day might have been ruined just at the thought alone.

* * *

Margo watched from the edge of her bed as Ophelia got dressed and ready. A small, half-frown on her face.

"Pipa?"

"Hm?" Ophelia mumbled as she pulled a black turtleneck sweater over her head. Already there was a brown tweed skirt on her legs.

Margo went straight to the point. "You're not repeating an outfit are you?"

"Margo." Ophelia's shoulders slumped down with a huff. "No one will remember what I wore to the last party."

A terrified, over-exaggerated gasp flew from Margo's mouth. "I remember! Last time I checked, I'm not 'no one' to you!" The posh blonde crossed her arms against her chest and let out a dramatic sigh.

"Oh, stop it." The brunette looked at herself in the mirror and checked herself out from different side profiles. "I look fit-you even said so yourself."

"That look is _**so**_ last month!" Margo stood up from her bed and waltzed over to her closet. "Pipa, at least lose the turtleneck...and the skirt….and everything else."

"All I have on is a turtleneck and skirt." Ophelia narrowed her eyes at the pure-blood.

A high pitched whine came from the Blaine heiress. "Pipa!"

"Look," Ophelia rushed to Margo's closet. Green eyes scanned the closet until it landed on one specific article of clothing. Ophelia grabbed at a pastel green, silk, shawl and draped it over the crook of her elbows. "Better?"

It didn't make much of a difference.

Margo only grumbled. "Fine. Whatever."

 _I'm not Peter_ , Ophelia thought happily to herself as they walked down into their house common room. _'Fine' and 'Whatever' doesn't phase me. Nothing's going to phase me tonight...I hope._

Ophelia Darwin had a fairly shitty week by most standards and definitions of the word 'shitty'. Tom wasn't going to give her any insight as to why his cruel, terrible friends involved her in their cruel, terrible business; he wasn't going to pay her any mind; and obviously their previous way of functioning no longer existed.

With all of those thoughts being replayed in her mind, the Hufflepuff decided then and there (as her and her friends walked to the Ravenclaw common room at the late hours of night)-alcohol would be her remedy.

 _Just no Fire Whiskey,_ Ophelia reasoned with herself as she greeted some other fellow classmates. _Gin-yes. Vodka-yes. Brandy-yes._

Ophelia grabbed Peter and Margo's hands and pushed through the crowds; she didn't pay any mind to William. If he wanted to drink with them-then fine-if not, oh well.

What many students loved about when Ravenclaw so rarely threw a party, was the fact that everything was indeed planned out ahead of time. The lighting of where the party took place had a perfect light blue hue; any valuable furniture used for comfort or studying had been removed to make for more space (they must have heard Peter Elwood wanted to come to their party and remembered how he ruined a good amount of his own common room's furniture) ; there was even a little table set filled with snacks if a witch or wizard felt peckish.

The nice, ten foot long bar stand was the lovely icing on the cake to the Ravenclaw common room for the night. A Ravenclaw, who by the looks of it seemed to be a sixth year stood confidently behind the bar. "Pick your poison."

Ophelia knew she had to answer before Peter opened his mouth. `"Four shots of gin, please!"

"I don't drink gin." William said as he wedged himself next to Peter.

Ophelia never took her gaze off the bartender and smiled, "Two of those shots are for me. The other two," She pointed her fingers at Peter and Margo, "are for these two."

"Ah." The bartender flicked his wand, shot glasses floated to the bar stand, a large bottle of gin so followed and began to pour itself in front of the Hufflepuffs. "Any chasers?"

Again, Ophelia's mouth had to be faster than Peter's. "Nope!"

Peter's eyes widened slightly. "I'm not drunk enough to take shots of gin straight yet."

Ophelia grabbed her two shot glasses, one in each hand. "Last one to down their drinks before me has to take another straight shot of gin." As soon as Ophelia said that, she easily got one shot of gin down and moved onto the next. There was a slight urge to gag as the hard liquor assaulted her taste buds, but she powered through regardless.

"Pipa! You cheater!" Margo coughed as she was the last the finish her shot.

Ophelia smiled and turned the bartender once more. "Another two shots of gin, please. One for me." The brunette pointed to herself before she pointed a finger to Margo. "One for this lovely lady."

William, Peter, and Margo exchanged a look. Their favorite half-blooded witch was in rare form tonight.

Ophelia was already back to asking for another drink from the Ravenclaw behind the bar. The brunette looked at her friends and flashed a smile. "Well? Are you guys at least going to _ **try**_ and catch up with me?"

Drinks were poured, the music in the room got louder and sounded better, people brushed up against each other and soon people started to dance: jazz, swing, a sloppy version of classical dancing, there might have been an Irish jig going on somewhere in that mess too.

William paired himself off with a nice seventh year from Gryffindor. Naturally, Margo and Peter found themselves joking and dancing with the messy crowd of people-occasionally they took turns to check on Ophelia who stayed at the bar.

"No date tonight?" The Ravenclaw asked as his swished his wand one way or another to pour drinks for other party goers as they stumbled to the bar stand.

Ophelia held up a tall shot glass of vodka to the bartender's face, smiled, then kissed her shot glass. "No date needed."

"Are you going to dance?" The boy with no name asked.

 _Someone is sure curious._ Ophelia downed her shot of vodka, and pressed her lips together. _To lie or be honest?_

"Too drunk to dance maybe?" The boy moved on, another wave of his wand and the shot glass in between the two magic users refilled itself.

 _Damn it, I must have taken too long to answer._ Ophelia answered anyways, "I never-I never- learned how to dance-dance lessons ar-aren't cheap in the muggle world." Her words slurred terribly and she was pretty sure she bit either her tongue or cheek as she tried to talk. "You dancer?"

She meant to say: "Are you a dancer?"

The Ravenclaw bartender only grabbed the refilled shot glass and down a shot a vodka before Ophelia could do it.

"Hey!" Ophelia pointed to the now empty shot glass with a look of pure sadness. "My vodka…"

"You need to be cut off." The Ravenclaw said as he pushed a glass of water towards her.

"Don't tell me what to do-Mister…" Ophelia was going to yell out the Ravenclaw's last name out, but then she realized she had no bloody clue who the hell who he was. "Mister…Ravenclaw Bartender?"

"Look," The young man looked into her eyes and tried to get Ophelia to see reason. "You've drank hard liquor with no chasers since you've got here. How many shots do you think you've had."

"Four!" Ophelia yelled as she pushed the unwanted cup of water away from her. She wasn't counting..but it only felt like she had four shots so four was a good and reasonable answer.

A laugh tore through the young man's body; a genuine laugh. "You've had over four."

"Fi-five?" The drunk girl questioned.

"Nope."

"Six?"

"No."

"Seven-yes-seven?"

The Ravenclaw boy sighed and drew away from the drunk girl on the opposite side of his bar stand. "You've had over that-."

Ophelia clapped her hands suddenly as an action to silence the boy. Why was a stranger interested in how many drinks she's had? She supposed she could have given 'Mister Ravenclaw Bartender' a benefit of the doubt and write him off as overly observant-but still-Ophelia just wanted to get shit faced.

 _Is that too much to ask for?_

"Fine." Ophelia pushed herself away from the bar, her legs were wobbly and felt numb as she clumsily staggered away. "I'll be out of your hair for the night." Ophelia wasn't sure why but her left hand flew to her forehead and she sloppily made a salute notion to the Ravenclaw male. "Goodnight, Miss-Mister Bartender."

With that Ophelia Darwin left, unnoticed by William, Peter, and Margo. The Ravenclaw bartender shook his head and went back to his duty of getting other members of the party fueled on alcohol.

* * *

Tom was going along his way to check the Ravenclaw common rooms. As a prefect he had many duties and one of them was making sure that most students were in their own beds, in their proper magical house, in one safe piece. So far he had to escort two Slytherin girls back to their dorm room, he had to pull a knocked out Gryffindor off the statue of Hogwart's first Headmaster, and he had to break up a fight between a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

 _Take it with a grain of salt_ , Tom thought to himself as he wandered down the dark halls of Hogwarts. The sound of drunken singing echoed in the halls, Tom rolled his eyes and with gritted teeth went to go seek out the drunk song bird.

"... _ **Under stars chilled by the winter, under an August moon burning above, you'd be so nice, you'd be paradise...To come home to and love…**_ "

As Tom got closer the voice became recognizable. He watched a few feet away from Ophelia, who staggered with each step as she sang slurred, slow, and surprisingly with decent pitch. Tom took note of the shawl draped unevenly on the crook of her elbows, he noticed how Ophelia was twirling the ends of the shawl with her hands as she sang.

" _ **...**_ _ **You'd be so nice to come home to, you'd be so nice by the fire while the breeze on high sang a lullaby..You'd be all that I could desire.."**_

A mixture of irritation and slight arousal flushed to the Slytherin prefect. Who knew Ophelia was a decent singer-Tom didn't. Sometimes Ophelia's voice when she spoke to him wasn't all the pleasant to listen to, but Tom didn't mind the voice she had when singing...But did Ophelia having to bloody sing _now_?! It was nearly four in the morning! Who the hell sang a song at four in the morning?

 _Idiot_ , Tom thought as he moved closer to the Hufflepuff sixth year. "Ophelia."

The half-blooded witch stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned around. "Y-yes?"

She smelt like a mixture of vodka and cinnamon but Tom found, for whatever strange reason, he didn't find that too off putting at the moment.

"You are aware that you are drunk, wandering the halls at night, being disruptive, and you are out way past curfew?" Tom then added. " I ought to take ten points from Hufflepuff."

The drunk, young lady pulled her lips to a pout. "Did you that with the other drunks you found roaming the halls?"

A smirk came to Tom as he lied straight to Ophelia's face. "No, because you're the only drunk I've found tonight."

"Well…" Ophelia's pout went away. "Why are you out? Shouldn't you be in-."

Tom stopped Ophelia then and there; her current state was rather amusing. "I'm a prefect. Did you drink yourself into a farther state of stupidity than usual tonight?"

If the girl was sober, she would have picked up on the condescending tone directed at her but Ophelia was nowhere near sober. Nor was she going to sober up anytime soon.

Instead a good-natured laugh escaped her lips, Tom's comment was ignored.

"I need to go-to go- to my room," Ophelia whispered as her laughter died down. "So Margo can find me when she gets back."

 _Where were her friends anyways?_ Tom arched an eyebrow at the girl. "Did you leave without telling them where you went?"

"Mister Bartender will tell them! I asked him too!" Ophelia snapped at him, she crossed her arms over her chest and began to(drunkenly) waltz off. _Wait.._.Ophelia felt like she forgot something but quickly dismissed it. _Nevermind._

"Mister Bartender?" Tom frowned at Ophelia. "What the bloody hell are you-."

"Look Tom," Ophelia slurred. "Are you going to walk me to my room or not?"

 _Wait, what?_ The heir of Slytherin wasn't sure he heard her correctly. "Why would I-."

Ophelia interrupted him again, "Then are you going to walk me to your room?" The brunette girl flashed him a flirty, little smile and wrapped her arms around his torso. "You smell like book pages…" Her face pressed into his body, a satisfied hum escaped her mouth and Tom felt it vibrate through his body.

Every muscle in Tom Riddle's body tensed up at how tightly she clung to him; even his member between his legs slowly twitched. This wasn't the Ophelia he was used to.

No, the Ophelia he was used to never tended to initiate the first move or first body contact between the two of them.

"You're drunk." Tom hissed as he pried the girl off of him. "You reek of alcohol, you look like a bloody street urchin, and you sound so fucking stupid right now!" He had her hands in his wrist and he forcefully pushed her body towards a solid wall. "You think I'd be attracted to a harlot like-."

 _You should kiss him._ So she did.

Ophelia's lips gently brushed against Tom's; it silenced the boy's rude ramblings. With her wrists still tightly held in Tom's grip all she could do was stand on her tiptoes and place gentle, sweet kisses against Tom's beautiful lips.

Tom stood still, he accepted the kisses from the young lady but did not reciprocate them.

Ophelia's drunk thoughts were all over the place.

 _I want to like you...I want you to like me...I want to lay in bed with you again...I want…But I really shouldn't...You're not a good person just as much as I am not a smart person..._

Ophelia pulled her lips off of Tom. Tom dropped his hold on Ophelia's wrist, but said nothing as they both stared into the other's eyes.

Brown eyes stared deep into dull green eyes.

Not much could be heard, besides the cold wind howling in the night as snow descended outside. It was a moment in life, where the two teens just stood in silence and thought about the other's presence in life.

Tom was the monster that hid in the shadows-Ophelia knew what he was capable of-he was a terrible person...

Ophelia was drunk, yet her drunk self suddenly seemed to have more sense than when she was sober. She understood it now, she was just the little half-blooded filth of a witch who Tom used in one way or another.

Tears slowly began to fall down Ophelia's eyes; a pain that originated from heart echoed through her body.

"Hey!" Tom snapped as he began to notice the tears."Why are you doing that?" He didn't understand, she was the one who kissed him and know she was sobbing? "Ophelia, what the hell is wrong with you?"

A broken smile inched to Ophelia's face, gently she brought her right hand up to Tom's cheek and gently caressed his face. The Hufflepuff stood up on her tiptoes once again and placed another chaste and sweet kiss onto the Slytherin's lips.

"Ophelia!" Tom's voice sounded like a warning. "What are you doing?" Why was this girl acting so strangely all of a sudden?

"Saying goodnight, Tom." Ophelia whispered as she drew herself away from Tom. Her drunk steps led her farther and farther away from Tom. "I'll w-walk myself to the Hufflepuff house entrance."

Something in Tom's gut twisted as the girl walked away, but it would be nothing compared to how sharp the pain in Ophelia's heart felt.

 _Idiot_ , Tom shook his head as Ophelia's figure disappeared into the darkness of the halls. _Bloody, filthy idiot._


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling.

I only the plot and any original characters you might notice.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter and this is a long so it might have a bunch of errors. Let me know and I will fix it as soon as I can.

Thank you for reading this! Thank you to all those who favorite and follow this series! Please let me know what you think by leaving a review. Hope you enjoy this chapter! I did my best to make it a bit longer than usual. Also a big thank you to those who review! It lets me know that this story is being read and doing decently! Let me know what you think or let me know what you think will happen next. Anyways, enjoy!

This story is rated 'M' for a reason-the chapter contains a sex scene.

* * *

 _November 24, 1943_

Tom woke up from his sleep with small beads of sweat on his body. He turned and looked over to the window in his comfy prefect room-it could have only been a little past six or seven in the morning. A yawn escaped his lips as Tom stretched his arms above his head; he knew he didn't get enough sleep. It was hard to get a good's night rest as of late.

Maybe it was his dream that left him weak...Or maybe it was stress. Tom had to prepare himself for a series of tests and essays and whatever bullshit he had to deal with before the winter break hit (even if it was still November). Personally, he hated the holiday seasons in general. Holidays meant celebrations, celebrations meant going back to the muggle world, the muggle world meant no Hogwarts.. _.No Hogwarts_ , Tom thought to himself as he slowly ascended from his bed, _means no magic._

There was a tightness in Tom's lower abdomen, accompanied with a tingling as well. A silent groan escaped from Tom; he already knew good and well there was a growing bulge in his pajama bottoms.

 _Fuck_ , Tom thought as his hand naturally drifted to his now fully erect cock. _Maybe it was the dream…_

Since his sober encounter with a drunken Ophelia Darwin; Tom found himself lusting after her more but avoiding her as a result of it. Ophelia had messed with him, and he knew it, by those sweet kisses she gave him. She messed him up by pressing her face into his chest and humming into his body. She messed him when she initiated the first move.

Ophelia manage to trick his body and mind somehow-he was so sure of it! There was no way under no circumstance could Tom Marvolo Riddle _actually_ want Ophelia.

Tom wanted Horcruxes and power. There was just no way he'd actually want Ophelia.

In his dream, Ophelia did every little sordid thing Tom's male mind wanted her to do. Ophelia was on her knees begging for him, or his cock would be in her mouth and she would eagerly take him that way. There was even one portion of his dream where (now this one, Tom wouldn't mind actually happening) Ophelia lying on her side with him lying on his side next to her as well with his cock deep inside her, one hand gripped on her hip and the other buried deep in her hair as he pulled at it roughly.

Lust. Disgust. Irritation. Mild sleep deprivation. Tom didn't know how to process those emotions so early into the day.

 _I suppose,_ Tom thought with his hand still on his dick, _I ought to get rid of this._

* * *

Ophelia bore her eyes into the text book in front of her, stress racked her brain as she tried not to scream in frustration, the ink on the tip of her quill dried out and her parchment paper was blank. The Hufflepuff managed to let her grade in Herbology go from 'Acceptable' to 'Dreadful'.

Oh, Merlin how she wanted to scream and fuss. Especially when she'd been up since five in the morning.

Ophelia looked over to her right, Margo was as almost as frazzled as she was, seeing as Margo was the one who woke Ophelia up so they could review on some subjects before the day started. Margo's weakness: Transfigurations. That subject and that subject alone was not Margo Blaine's forte (Divinations was particularly her strongest subject) and now, the blonde witch was close to frantic as she tried to cram all and any spells her mind needed to retain.

 _Then there was Peter_.

Apparently, members of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team had to score 'Acceptable' or better in all their classes if they wanted to stay on the team. Something about a bad reputation or being stupid or whatnot-Ophelia and Margo didn't care really when Peter first told them this so they didn't really listen. Peter Elwood would constantly tell them to come and join him and the rest of the team for a group study (every bloody Monday, Thursday, and Friday before dinner) and now the constant refusal to study with them came to bite the girls in the arse.

Ophelia and Margo both hated him right now. The only reason why he was in the common room with the two girls was because Peter said he'd keep them company, which was just another way of saying he didn't mind watching them suffer.

Peter tried to hide the slight merriment in his voice. "I told you two, more than once, to come and study with the team."

"Shut up, Peter." Margo snapped as she pointed her quill at him.

Ophelia only stared at her textbook.

"What?" Peter kept on moving his mouth. "I'm just saying."

Margo huffed, "Don't."

The words in Ophelia's textbook seemed to be shrinking smaller and smaller.

"Geez," Peter furrowed his eyebrows together, "You're in a mood today Margo. Don't you agree Pipa?"

"Don't you drag Pipa into this!" Margo nearly screamed. "You're just being an arse, Peteris Elwood!"

"Please," a voice that belonged to William Zolotov cut into the bickering. "It's too early in the morning for this."

Margo was incredibly snippy, "Then go back to sleep, William!"

"Margaret Blaine," Peter frowned at the blonde witch, "Leave him alone."

"No!"

William sighed, "But it really is too early for this."

Ophelia let out a groan and slammed the book shut: all the words kept shrinking and shrinking until they were gone to her mind's eye or were just too damn blurry for her to read. She gathered her things quietly as Peter and Margo bickered among themselves, and she left William to play referee.

"I'll see you lot in class or in passing." Ophelia muttered robotically as she headed off to Ancient Runes. She didn't have the strength or energy to start her day as loudly as her friends.

Once she got into the classroom for Ancient Runes, Ophelia looked around carefully-she was currently the only person in the room. She laid her books down on a random desk as she proceeded to walk towards the left side of the classroom and stopped in front of an elegant, glass-stained, casement window.

Ophelia slowly opened the window, she took in a deep breath and stuck her head as far out as she could.

The half-blooded witch screamed into the still morning air, until her lungs felt like they were on fire and until her face turned into a slight shade of pink. She took in another deep breath and screamed, even louder the second time around.

 _One more,_ Ophelia thought to herself as she didn't feel relaxed or calm yet. She opened her mouth to let another scream out, but it never did come.

"Maybe I shouldn't have cut you off the vodka the other night."

Ophelia shut her mouth in an instant and slowly turned around to the source of the voice; the stress and frustration that bubbled in her body was now replaced with an unprecedented amount of embarrassment.

"You seem like you need need it."

 _Oh, Merlin, please, no._

Ophelia didn't remember much from the party from the past weekend, just snippets. Such as: she went, she got drunk, she spoke to the bartender, she made a fool of herself in front of Tom, single handed broke her own heart by realizing Tom was a cold and heartless bastard, went to her cozy bed, cried herself to sleep, the end.

Those snippets were enough to instill the good sense of shame into her when Ophelia woke up from that night...Now it slowly came back to haunt her.

'Mister Bartender' stood behind Ophelia with his hands in the pockets of his robes, there was a quiet look on his face as if he was trying to figure out what this girl was doing. 'Mister Bartender' had wavy blonde hair at the top of his head with the sides shaved, and naturally inquisitive gray eyes. Upon closer inspection, Ophelia noticed 'Mister Bartender' had broad shoulders and sun-kissed skin.

She also, upon closer inspection, still had no clue what his actual name was. Not to mention, Ophelia was also caught screaming to the world by a practical stranger.

Ophelia offered an awkward, forced smile to the Ravenclaw boy and quickly ran to the desk she placed her books on. She pressed her forehead down on the cold surface of her books, and kept her head down until she heard the Ancient Runes Professor speak.

 _Today's going to be a long one, Darwin,_ Ophelia told herself as the current professor drone on about a series of upcoming essays and tests for the class before Christmas Holiday.

From the corner of her eye, Ophelia saw how focused the Ravenclaw bartender was. Ophelia's shoulders tensed. _Today is going to be a real long day._

* * *

Madame Roseweed was rather young compared to other staff members of Hogwarts. At first, many were worried Madame Roseweed wasn't experienced enough, mature enough, or consistent enough to run the Herbology department for Hogwarts.

Well, they were damn right about all of that.

Madame Roseweed would constantly change her mind about assignment, or essay topics at the last second without the decency to make sure all students knew of the change. The lesson plans were a joke because nothing seemed to go together: one day they'd learn about some earthly, magical herb; then the next, they'd skip over to learning about some exotic seaweed hidden in the depths of an oceanic trench!

There was also the rumors (which were a hundred percent true, many students will confirm) Madame Roseweed smoked actual weed like a chimney. Her classroom, the greenhouse, smelt like weed too as a result of it.

So the fact that Ophelia had to stay a good moment longer in the heavy smell of weed to talk to Madame Roseweed was only aggravated by the elder one's lack of trying to take responsibility of her shitty lesson planning skills.

"Yes," Ophelia argued politely as she could, "but when you changed the topic for the last essay, I ask if you would accept mine even if it was a topic on self-fertilising shrubs. You said that you would and that my grade wouldn't be docked down for it."

Madame Roseweed grounded up something inside a mortar; the pestle cracked loudly as the pace quickened. "I said no such thing, Miss Darwin."

"But-."

"Even if I did." Madame Roseweed now took out a small, rectangular, sheer looking paper from her desk and emptied the contents of the mortar onto her desk. "Why couldn't I find your essay paper?"

 _Maybe because you got high and lost my essay! You fucking nut._ Ophelia sighed, "Well then what can I do to make it up? Write another essay, perhaps?"

"No." Madame Roseweed got annoyed with the Hufflepuff student as she started to carefully place the grounded up form of weed onto the sheer wrapping paper she got from her desk. "If I give you another chance to write an essay-you'd never turn it in and go off lying to my face that you did."

"I would never do such a thing, Madame Roseweed!" Ophelia felt anger and frustration bubbling up in her body. If she had to, Ophelia was not above begging! "Please! I promise! I'll write an essay about anything if it means getting my grade back to a passing mark!"

"Anything?"

Ophelia nodded eagerly. "Yes, anything!"

A smile came to Madame Roseweed's lips, her freshly rolled joint twirled elegantly between her fingers. "I want an essay on weed."

"What?"

"Weed, marijuana, the devil's cabbage," Madame Roseweed went on. "Mary Jane, pot, cannabis."

"Um…" Ophelia blinked, she wasn't sure she heard the professor right. "You want me to write an essay on weed?"

Madame Roseweed lit the rolled up drug, "Best get started, Miss Darwin, I want that essay before dinner tonight." The young professor then took a nice, long hit from her joint, casually blowing smoke out towards Ophelia's face. "I'll be here."

 _I absolutely hate you and I hope you get fired._ Ophelia only gave a blank stare and exited out of the greenhouse. The smell and smoke of weed only hung onto her for a slight second before it disappeared.

Ophelia trudged to the library, a frown ever present on her face. She wanted to scream again.

A voice would interrupt her from doing so.

"You really look like you need a drink."

Ophelia snapped her head to source of the voice. A sigh escaped her lips-why was today so weird?

The Ravenclaw boy knew something was wrong but didn't press the issue so much. Instead he focused on something else. "You know, I never got your name."

 _Oh really?_ Ophelia's terrible mood slightly went away. "I never caught your name either."

A thin smile came to the boy's face, "It's not much of a name, really."

"Oh?" Ophelia wasn't too sure what he meant. "So will I just have to keep referring to you as Mister Bartender in my mind ?"

"Or," the Ravenclaw's gray eyes sparkled with a look of controlled mischief, "you can refer to me as the handsome Ravenclaw who will be leaving a rather memorable impression on you."

 _What on earth was going on?_ Ophelia's eye widened, "Excuse me? What are you getting at?" Her tone was a mixture of animosity and confusion.

The Ravenclaw kept his thin smile on his face and ignored her question. "You have a good rest of your day-try not to scream out of any more windows. People might think you're a loon." He gave the flustered girl a wink before leaving.

"What the fuck?" Ophelia whispered to herself as the Ravenclaw retreated. _What the actual, bloody fuck?_

He didn't even give her his name!

Ophelia paused. _I didn't even give him my name! What if he has been referring to me as drunken mess Hufflepuff this whole time?_

* * *

Tom was irritated as more and more students flooded the library; the all bunched up into groups and chattered among themselves instead of actually studying. Tables were crowded and nearly every aisle had at least seven people skimming for books.

The grand library doors opened for possibly the sixtieth time, another hoard of students bustled through.

"Excuse me, pardon me, coming through." A familiar voice gently cut through the air and easily landed on his ears.

There was a tightness in Tom Riddle's chest he didn't understand when he turned his head to look over to Ophelia. It had been there for a few days now.

 _Bloody idiot,_ Tom thought as he saw Ophelia go towards the Herbology section of the usual messy brown hair was long enough now to put into a tamed braid but a few strands of hair still managed to hang and curve along the sides of her face; her green eyes looked wide with stress-she really was a sight to see sometimes.

A quiet minute went by, Tom's eyes were glued intently on the Herbology aisle, he waited for Ophelia to come out. Another minute went and was replaced by another.

The tightness in his chest got worse. Before he could ignore Ophelia as if it was a job that came with perks and benefits, now it seemed harder.

 _No sign of Blaine, Elwood, or Zolotov._ Tom noted as he stood and directed his body towards a specific aisle.

There were three other students in the Herbology aisle other than just Ophelia, Tom easily walk past them and stood next to the Hufflepuff.

"Trouble with Herbology, I see." Tom quickly thought of a good jab to use much to Ophelia's expense. "Maybe she needs to get her hands on a stronger drug to have enough pity to let you pass her class."

" No, Madame Roseweed is the source of trouble." Ophelia commented with a hushed whisper.

Tom was taken aback for a brief moment. Usually, Ophelia stayed quiet unless his insult or command required and answer out of her. Or even if she did usually ignore his jabs at her-Tom imagined Ophelia would have responded with something more along the lines of : 'Hello, Tom. So nice to see you too.'

Tom decided he was going to push her until he got a reaction close to what he expected. "Has it ever occurred to you that you're just stupid, Ophelia?" The heir of Slytherin went on, something heated his blood as Ophelia continued to grab and skim through books. "Or has it finally settled in and you're now taking your studies seriously?"

The jabs Tom made at Ophelia did hurt, especially since it seemed he was insulting her simply due to the fact he had some free time. She knew the young male wanted a reaction out of her, then again, he always wanted something out of her.

Ophelia Darwin no longer wanted Tom Riddle to treat her...Well..how he usually went about treating her. Ophelia decided there and then, instead of feeling sorry for herself and wallowing in a some form of self-loathing she was going to get her shit together. _Or at the very least,_ Ophelia thought to herself, _I am going to try and get my shit together._

"I must get going, Tom." Ophelia replied robotically as she gathered two books that held the information she needed. "Good luck with your studies. Tell your horrible gang members I said hi."

Ophelia wasn't too sure why she said that last part, but certainly sounded and felt cool as she said it.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows at the young lady-something had gotten into her and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. He placed a firm grip on Ophelia's shoulder as she tried to leave, as much as he wanted to be more physical with her, there were witnesses who would probably have an issue with a male placing a hand on a female's neck.

"What's gotten into you?" Tom narrowed his eyes at the girl. Never did it occur to him that Ophelia would stop her blind loyalty, no matter how his nasty attitude and behavior towards her could get.

"Nothing." Ophelia lied calmly to his face. "I have an essay to write in a short amount of time and I am stressed." Ophelia shrugged her shoulder out of Tom's grasp. "I really have to go, Tom, have a good rest of the day."

For the first time in a long time, Tom's thoughts were quiet as Ophelia retreated away from him.

His heart pounded wickedly against his chest. _What the hell is going with me?_ Tom ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair.

He was almost certain Ophelia placed a curse on him. A quick burst of anger flooded into his conscience. _I'll be seeing you later , Darwin._

* * *

Ophelia rushed through multiple things on this particular day; she knew she couldn't skip any more of her classes but she did know the less she messed around the earlier she could be released from class.

It took Ophelia a good two hours to write, proofread, rewrite again, and read her essay on weed out loud before she decided it was good enough. Her skinny legs ran as fast as they could to the Herbology classroom; adrenaline pumped through her veins.

"Here!" Ophelia screamed as she barged into the classroom, her essay held up high in the air.

Madame Roseweed flinched awake at the sudden sound. "You what?" She nearly knocked her mortar and pestle off the desk.

"My essay," Ophelia stated as she dropped the parchment paper on the professor's desk. "Written on weed like you requested."

A look of complete joy came across Madame Roseweed's face as she began to read the paper. "Looks like I owe you a passing grade...I think I'll give you an Outstanding mark for this, eh?"

Ophelia sighed. _Thank the heavens something went right today!_

As Ophelia walked away from the Herbology classroom, the sight of Tom standing a few feet in front of her was something she had no choice but to notice. She diverted her gaze off to the side, so she wouldn't have to look directly at him and continued to go about her pace.

Immediately, Tom knew what she was doing. "Do you remember what happened the last time you ignored me?"

Ophelia froze.

"I asked you a question." Tom was now making his way towards her, "I said: do you remember what happened the last time you ignored me?" His tone was calm yet domineering.

"You burned my hand," Ophelia whispered, her voice a little shaky.

Tom's ear perked at the familiar tone of fear in his Hufflepuff's voice. "That's right." Tom's hand came up to her face, and he did his best to mimic a gently caressing motion (like what Ophelia did). "Only this time, maybe it's be your face and not your hand."

Ophelia felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "What do you want, Tom?"

"My, my, aren't you becoming a bold thing for a filthy witch?" Tom gave her a cruel grin as his hand lowered from Ophelia's face to her hand. "Follow me."

Ophelia expected Tom to grabbed her wrists like he always did...Instead, he intertwined his hands with hers. _He's.._.Ophelia was shocked. _..He's holding my hand? Tom must have gone mad..._

* * *

When the two teens finally made it to the Slytherin prefect room, Tom didn't waste time. He wanted whatever Ophelia put into his system out and he figured intimacy was the only way to get it out.

His pale hands went to her hips and he pulled her in for kiss; carefully he walked backwards until he left his bed hit the back of his knees. Tom then shifted his hands from her hips to the small of her back; he then sat down on the edge of his bed with Ophelia now in a straddled position on his lap.

Ophelia's heart practically leapt up to her throat at the sudden shift in the boys mood; she tried to pull away from the kiss. _What on earth is going on today?_ How did her originally stressful day mold into an eventful one?

A moan came from Tom's lips as he felt Ophelia start to slowly grind on him; her movements were slow and heavy against the erection in his pants. He broke the kiss as he pulled away to look at his Hufflepuff's face.

Ophelia's eyes were gently closed, her lips were slightly parted as if silent moans were rushing out, and there was a pink flush in her cheeks.

That strange tightness in Tom's chest returned and he only gripped onto the small of Ophelia's back tighter because of that. A moan escaped her lips.

"Do you like that?" Tom asked as his hands shifted from her back to her bottom,he squeezed her cheeks as hard as could before letting go.

Ophelia nodded her head as her movements slowly came to a halt. _What am I doing?!_ Ophelia cleared her throat and tried to stand up. Tom quickly moved his hands to the back of her knees to prevent her from going anywhere.

"Why'd you stop?" Just by Tom's tone alone Ophelia knew he was upset.

"Are you alright?" Ophelia blurted out.

"I've never been better." His voice seemed like it was sincere but at the same time, it dripped with sarcasm.

"It's just-."

"Ophelia," Tom huffed as he easily flipped their position to where he was now on top and she on the bottom. " _ **Shut up**_." Tom felt the burning need to touch a specific part of her. He leaned his head down to her neck and began to bite and kiss it; one pale hands worked on undoing her braid while the other one worked on going under her skirt and pushed her underwear to the side.

The young man traced a finger along the folds of Ophelia womanhood, he used his middle and pointer finger to soon play with the sensitive clit down there, he was going to take this slow for as all as he could.

Oh, Merlin, how Tom wanted to take her then and there but he wanted to savor this moment. All the other times they had sex went by too fast and he wasn't sure he had gotten the chance to properly enjoy Ophelia's body.

Ophelia bit her lower lip when Tom began to circle his fingers around her clit at a more moderate pace; she never knew how aware she could be to exactly how extremely wet Tom was making her.

"Damn it, Tom!" Ophelia cussed as his fingers move from her clit to her slick folds; the was a pinch of pressure as Tom's fingered entered into her. "Ah!"

Tom's cold smirk naturally came to his face as he saw Ophelia grab at the bed sheets beneath her; he fingered quickly and hard, carefully curving the tips of his fingers every so often inside just to hear Ophelia moan a slight bit louder. Tom loved how her brown hair slowly became a wild mess. _Don't let her cum just yet._

"Take your clothes off." Tom ordered as he drew his fingers out of her.

Ophelia, lost in her haze of lust did just that. First she unbuttoned her blouse (after she nearly choked herself for forgetting to undo her tie), her bra disappeared next, followed by skirt, underwear, shoes, and socks. "Take off yours as well." Ophelia whispered lowly as she went to undo Tom's tie.

The Slytherin worked on undoing the belt on his trousers and removing his boxers as the naked female worked on ridding his body of his uniformed shirt. The Hufflepuff and Slytherin had to switch positions in order for the Slytherin to get undressed.

Ophelia began to trail little kisses from Tom's beautiful face down to his chest, a little bit more down to his lower abdomen, then finally further down to his erect member. _Do it._ Ophelia thought to herself, _he might like it._

Ophelia opened her mouth and used her hand to gently guide Tom's dick into it.

"Fuckin' hell." Tom muttered as he looked down to see Ophelia's head bob up and down his harden shaft; one of her hands were close to her lips and it rubbed him up and down as she sucked him off. Tom let out a low groan as he felt Ophelia's tongue swirl around the head of dick right before she began to take him as deep into mouth as she could.

He wouldn't be able to last much longer. "Get up here, you filthy witch." Tom's demanding voice had an mixture of charm and control too it. It was a tone that suggested he didn't want the other person in the room to know he thoroughly enjoyed what she could with that pretty mouth of hers.

Ophelia did as she was told, but instead of lying by him to meet his demands she took to straddling over the boy's hips and lowered her head down so their eyes could meet. "What?" Ophelia arched an eyebrow at the boy. "Did you not like it?"

Tom didn't make a comment, he just pressed his lips against hers and trapped the half-blooded witch into a hungry kiss. The Slytherin's hand carefully guided his dick to Ophelia's entrance and easily slipped himself into her tight, warm walls.

A gasp echoed through the room, "Tom!"

Tom began to buck his hips up against her as quickly as he could, he waited long enough. He couldn't wait much longer. Ophelia felt great being on top for the first time, she didn't that both clitoral and vaginal pleasure could increase from this position. Her body easily matched Tom's thrusts, it even got to a point where she found herself riding his dick and Tom's movement halted to enjoy that.

" _Holy shit, Ophelia._ " Tom whispered as he gripped onto her hips.

" _What?"_ Ophelia's voice sounded distant and playful, " _You like that_ " Her walls tightened around the swollen cock inside of her, and she felt every inch of Tom inside of her.

 _Oh my goodness!_ Ophelia thought to herself. _What are you doing?! Stop this right now!_

" _You have no idea,_ " Tom whispered lowly as he moved one of his hands to cup Ophelia's left breast.

Contented moans filled the room as Ophelia continued to quicken her pace, her movements became more and more forceful, until suddenly and rather miraculously, both teens arrived to a climax at almost the exact same time.

Tom came first, then shortly after Ophelia felt him release in her, her orgasm came quietly and wonderfully.

The half-blooded witch peeled herself off of the heir of Slytherin's body and immediately let her body lay down for a brief minute. A wondrous sensation tingled in her legs.

Tom merely let out a gasp of relief as he realized the tightness in his chest was now gone.

Silence settled between them like it always did after sex. Ophelia got up from Tom's bed and began to dress herself; she felt Tom's eyes on her with every movement she made until finally she reached for the door and left the prefect to himself.

A strange thought with absolutely no correlation to Tom Riddle entered her mind as she drew near the Hufflepuff House entrance.

 _I hope Mister Bartender won't think I'm a slag…_ Ophelia let out a chuckle that was close to hysterical.

 _Oh, Merlin, I don't even know his name and here I am hoping he doesn't fancy me any less because I shagged Tom._

Ophelia Mae Darwin wanted to scream until her lung collapsed or until she got her act together, but sleep sounded more appealing at moment (especially if Margo was going to wake her up for another early review session.)


	18. Chapter 18

First things first: SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE! I had a friend visit me the past few weeks and I got caught up with that, I forgot to work on this chapter. I will also apologize in advance because I will going to this following weekend to visit this friend again so the next chapter might be delayed! SORRY GUYS!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter and this is a long so it might have a bunch of errors. Let me know and I will fix it as soon as I can.

Thank you for reading this! Thank you to all those who favorite and follow this series! Please let me know what you think by leaving a review. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Also a big thank you to those who review! It lets me know that this story is being read and doing decently! Let me know what you think or let me know what you think will happen next. Anyways, enjoy! Again, a big thank you to those who leave me reviews! I adore you guys!

* * *

 _November 29, 1943_

Edmund Campion was a smart young man. Reserved when he needed to be, forward when he wanted to be. The Ravenclaw was similar to the majority of students of Hogwarts in this particular time period: he was a pure-blood. Not that it really mattered, no high standing pure-blooded witch or wizard would want to associated with the offspring of a woman who did things _her_ way instead of the _'old fashioned'_ way.

Edmund was sure the reason Slughorn wanted him in his 'Slug Club' was the controversies that constantly surrounded his mother-it provided good gossip (not that him being in the Slug Club meant anything to him, really.) Edmund even flunked multiple potion quizzes at different times to see if Slughorn was interested due to Edmund's strong academic portfolio. (The answer was no, by the way.)

The blonde haired boy leaned farther into his chair as he waited for someone to finish up the impromptu essay for Transfiguration before the class period was over. There was only five more minutes to spare. From the corner of his eyes, he caught the Hufflepuff's quill violent movements as she jotted down everything important for properly transfigurating a tree to a wooden boat.

"Time is up, please turn in your essays and head on out." Dumbledore's voice gently reverberated through the nearly empty classroom. His kind eyes zeroed in on the young lady in the room. "Miss Darwin, I am sure you aren't going to fail so please, turn it in."

 _Darwin_. Edmund Campion felt something flutter in the pit of his stomach. All he knew was her last name, for the past few days Edmund hoped something, even a hint of the first letter of her first name would leap out to him.

The Ravenclaw heard the sound of her light footsteps as the Hufflepuff ascended to Professor Dumbledore's desk. He immediately jolted up from his desk and went to go turn in his essay prompt as well.

It was his turn for Dumbledore to tease slightly. "Didn't want her to feel the pressure of being the last student in the room, I suspect?"

Edmund watched as the brunette turned and looked at him over her shoulder as she handed her essay away. Her green eyes seemed calm and quiet as she acknowledged his presence.

"Well to be so honest, Professor, I wasn't in the mood to hurry off to Alchemy." Edmund stood with a naturally prefect posture as he found himself in front of Dumbledore and next to the Hufflepuff.

The pleasant smell of cinnamon graced his senses. "How about you, Darwin?" Edmund looked at the skinny teen as he spoke to her. "Not in a rush to get to your next class either?"

The Ravenclaw watched as a short lived expression of shock came to her face; Edmund found it adorable. A part of the Hufflepuff girl wanted to believe the Ravenclaw boy would never speak to her again.

"I have Herbology next." She made a face, "I should be doing fairly well in that class now even if I don't care for it, but I genuinely wanted to be thorough for _this_ essay."

Dumbledore smiled at the students. _Campion and Darwin,_ he thought, _a safer pair than Darwin and Riddle._ "And," the older man started off, "were you thorough?"

A shy smile played on the Hufflepuff's lips. "I'd like to think so, Professor."

" I am sure you were then," Dumbledore stated and gestured towards to door of the classroom. "Off you two pop, no need to delay yourselves from other studies."

"Have a good day, Professor." The Hufflepuff chimed politely before she exited the class.

Edmund stood still for a brief minute. He didn't want to scare the poor brunette off by following directly after her; he didn't want the girl to think he was stalker.

Dumbledore noticed the boy's behavior as one would notice a black cat. When the student stayed a few seconds longer, the professor decided to push the boy out with his words. "Well," The older man practically scoffed, "Go on."

"Professor." Was all the Ravenclaw said with a curt nod before he left.

Edmund easily caught up with Darwin's pace as he noted she was indeed headed to the Herbology greenhouse.

 _Be gentlemanly, and polite,_ Edmund reminded himself as he approached the Hufflepuff.

He easily fell perfectly in sync with the girl's pace. "I found out your last name by the way." He paused for dramatic effect. "Miss Darwin."

A sound that was neither a chuckle nor scoff escaped the brunette's made the impression of snort on the boy's ears.

"Oh, so you'd rather poke around for my name is rather than ask me for it?"

Edmund shrugged and continued to follow the girl to Herbology. "Well, are you going to ask me for my name?" He placed a hand on the greenhouse's door knob and twisted it open for the Hufflepuff. "Or does 'Mister Ravenclaw Bartender' seem like a perfect match for my face."

Then there it was...a toothy smile that revealed the tiniest of dimples on the corners of her lips. Edmund couldn't help but feel a strange flutter in his stomach once more.

"Actually," The Hufflepuff went and stood in the doorway as she spoke to the Ravenclaw. "If I had to guess, to me you like you could be a 'Grant', 'Roman', 'Lukas', or even a 'Sebastian'."

Edmund knew he had an unamused expression on his face at the mention of the last name. "Ugh," He commented with a frown. "Sebastian, really?"

"Really." The Hufflepuff replied, her smile still in place, she began to venture into the greenhouse but the voice of the Ravenclaw male made her freeze in her steps.

"Well, I hate to let you down but that isn't my name. Edmund wondered if he should give the girl at least his last name. _Anything but Mister Bartender...I suppose._

"Oh!"

Edmund nearly jumped at the change of volume of the girl's voice: it went for soft and relaxed to urgent and loud in a blink.

Without much thought, the Hufflepuff placed a hand over the his, which still held the greenhouse door open for her.

Edmund noticed her hands were slightly cold and clammy but he decided he could ignore it. "Yes?"

"My name is Ophelia." The brunette's toothy smile turned into that of a small, coy, smirk. "Ophelia Darwin."

Edmund let a composed and small grin turn the corners of his lips of slightly. "I'm Edmund." He stated the rest of his name evenly. "Edmund Campion."

"MISS DARWIN GET IN!" The loud voice of Professor Roseweed echoed loudly past the classroom and out into the halls. "MISTER CAMPION CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR! YOU'RE LETTING THE COLD AIR IN, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE. CLOSE THE DOOR!"

 _I absolutely hate you, you foul woman._ Ophelia directed that thought at the inconsistent Herbology teacher as she waved a small goodbye to Edmund Campion, who immediately swung the door shut.

"Miss Darwin," Professor Roseweed's voice was back to its usual tone and volume as she did her best calmly approach her student. For a brief moment, the Herbology teacher actually looked professional.

"Professor Roseweed?" Ophelia wasn't too sure what the scattered woman was going to do.

Professor Roseweed was only four inches taller than Ophelia, but the older woman still thought it necessary to lean in and whisper to the younger female. "Edmund Campion! Let me tell you, I have heard some _things_ about that red blooded male!" Professor Roseweed pulled away and gave Ophelia a small wink before she jolted off to teach her random plant of the day.

 _...You really are a foul woman…_ Ophelia looked at the professor with of horror and slight mortification-why the hell, would a PROFESSOR encourage gossip with a student about another student?

As Ophelia wrote down note after note during Herbology, she did wonder what things were said about the Ravenclaw boy. At the top left corner of her little notebook, she made a small reminder to herself.

' _ **Talk to Margo about E.C'**_

The brunette fixed her eyes back to Professor Roseweed, the older woman babbled on. Ophelia naturally went back to focusing on her studies. A small part of her felt that maybe she should have made a smaller reminded...One that went along the lines of: ' _Keep away from T.M.R as well'._

Ophelia Darwin didn't write that anywhere on her notes.

* * *

Margo Blaine loved all forms Divination, Ophelia more or less tolerated the subject. Honestly, how could a person believe they could see the future-much less predict it? Nothing, especially the future could be set in stone just because a cup during afternoon tea showed a picture?

Right now, the two young ladies sat comfortably in the Divination classroom as they ate their lunch in private. (Peter and William didn't quite enjoy boy oriented topics during lunch and would do everything in their power to stir the conversation away from that particular subject.)

Ophelia had caught Margo up from the events of the Ravenclaw party to her recent encounter with the blonde boy; she made sure that all parts that included a stuck up Slytherin was not put into the conversation.

"Campion?" Margo tried her best to not let even the tiniest bit of disappointment show on her face after Ophelia told her their few interactions. The pure-blooded witch knew in a heartbeat exactly who her best friend was talking about. "You think you fancy him?" Again-Margo was trying her best to hide her disappointment.

"No." Ophelia shook her head. "I just want to know more about him."

A prudish tone laced Margo's words as she replied back, "Well why do you want to know more about him if you don't fancy him?"

"MARGO!" Ophelia whined. "Please?" Maybe the half-blood witch did fancy the Ravenclaw boy, maybe she didn't. Margo could at least throw her a bone as far as rumours and whatever else surround the Campion boy.

The blonde girl eyed her friend. As spoilt as Margo was, for how stubborn and prissy she knew she could be-Margo wouldn't withhold anything from her favorite half-blood. Margo sighed, "You might not like what I am about to say, Pipa."

Ophelia shrugged, "Could be worse than the time I told you I saw Peter talking Renee Bell?"

"Ew!" Margo put a perfectly manicured hand over her chest as she remembered the specific event Ophelia mentioned. "No! Nothing could be worse than _**that!**_ "

"Then how bad could the things about Edmund Campion be?" Ophelia gave her friend a small smile. "Please tell me what you know? Don't pure-bloods kind of know each other?"

"Do all half-bloods and do all muggles know each other?" Margo quipped back. Margo hated that Ophelia assumed such a thing!...Although it was rather true.

"In my defense," Ophelia stated evenly, "it really does seem all pure-bloods know something about all the other pure-bloods."

"Fine." Margo sighed as she finally threw up her hands as a sign of giving into her friend. "Edmund Campion is a pure-blood, comes from a long line of them too."

Silence settled for a brief instant.

Ophelia gently poked the blonde witch's cheek. "And?"

Margo sighed and pouted-she should have known Ophelia was going to want to know more than that! "His mother is Adelina Campion, ever heard that name before?"

Confusion broke on the brunette's face. "No...Should I have?"

"You are so fashion illiterate with the wizarding world," Margo commented. "Adelina Campion is the best in the fashion industry at the moment: ballroom gowns, wedding dresses, jewelry, shoes, men's clothing?" Margo went on. "Anyone who is anyone important wears her brand."

"Okay…" Ophelia was uncertain why Margo thought there would be something in this that would her upset. "Well, so far you made Campion seem fine and normal, Margo."

"No pure-blood wants to be directly linked with her." At least that was Margo's mom and grandma had told always repeated.

"Why's that?"

Margo took in a deep breath, "She is a harlot, Pipa. Her son is a bastard. Adelina was young when she started to mess around with men older than her and wealthier than her. She got knocked up by a married man, you know-."

"Wait." Ophelia wasn't sure she heard right. "What?"

"Yes!" Margo said. "Anyways, back to what I was saying: Adelina Campion got knocked up by a rich, married man and he even gave her a way out too. To have the baby and let him and his wife adopt it so they could pass it off as theirs, but Adelina Campion refused, kept the baby, didn't ask to marry and used her own money to invest in what she wanted." Margo shook her head as she tried to remember other things about the fashionista. "She created an empire all her own, and trust me, old timey pure-bloods do not like how she became successful...much less how she had a healthy bastard."

Inbreeding among family members sometimes resulted in less than healthy and possibly, less than stable children. So how dare Adelina Campion sleep around and have a perfect child!

Ophelia never knew Margo could have been so harsh and judgemental to someone who had the same blood-status as her-but Ophelia kept that in her mind and out of the conversation. "That's very detailed and all but can you tell me something about him? Edmund?"

"He plays Quidditch," Margo rolled her eyes. "I guess, he isn't terribly ugly for a bastard."

Ophelia tried to not sound so boy crazy. "Campion isn't ugly at all." She did sound boy crazy.

"Whatever." Margo said, this time she allowed a hint of disapproval to come out with her words. "Many say he's quite the ladies man. Florence Carver and Winnie Dove had their hearts broken into bits by him."

Florence Carver was a Gryffindor a year younger than them while Winnie Dove was a fellow sixth year Hufflepuff. Both were exceptionally pretty and high maintenance, with plump breasts and long legs that could have stopped traffic. A twinge of uncertainty caught Ophelia rather off guard. She wasn't looking for someone to break her heart at the moment.

"Anyways," Margo tried to shift the topic when a sad little expression in her friend's eyes. "Why do you care about Campion when there is Riddle?"

Ophelia wished she could have told Margo how terrible Tom Riddle actually was but for the sake reason-Ophelia never did. Besides...it's not like anyone would believe her. "Riddle and I are acquaintances." Ophelia repeated this lie easily as if it was as natural as breathing air. "Nothing would ever happen between us."

Margo whined. "Oh, but think how sweet you two would be together!"

 _The times we were together have been anything but sweet._ Ophelia decided to change the topic. "I think you and Peter would be sweet together."

Margo Blaine blushed as a coy smirk washed over her features. "Yes. Now if only he'd pull his head out of his arse to see it too."

The two girls spoke on about Peter Elwood and how he was undoubtedly an idiot for the remainder of their lunch break...Just as Professor Roseweed chatted to Professor Slughorn about the possible romance between a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw.

* * *

"Tom, my good lad!" Horace Slughorn greeted his favorite student warmly before the class started.

"Professor Slughorn!" Tom smiled his perfect, white smile and mimicked his best impression of genuinely sound boy. "Are you going to give us any tricky potions today?"

The scholarly old man smiled, "I shall try to throw something challenging your way, though there is something I feel the need to bring to your attention."

 _Please do not be a reminder about the next Slug Club gathering._ Tom had it memorized in his head by now, unfortunately. Tom Riddle shifted his expression to that of false concern. "Is it serious, Professor?"

Slughorn was hesitant for a brief moment, while he was certain Tom was merely friends with a certain student, there was still a small fraction of the older man that was slightly unsure. "I don't think so, but I heard something interesting about a friend of yours."

 _Gossip._..Tom thought to himself. _I should have known this is what he'd bring up._ The heir of Slytherin sighed, maybe his followers had gone off and done something glaring stupid. "A friend of mine?" He knew he had to beat around the bush for a while. "Lestrange? Nott? Rosier? Malfoy-?"

"Miss Darwin, actually." Professor Slughorn replied.

Tom tensed up. The filthy witch only popped up once in conversation between Slughorn and him. The potions professor wanted to know if Tom thought Ophelia was worthy of being in the Slug Club-Tom promptly answered no to the question.

Not to mention the fact that, the aching feeling in Tom's chest came back every so often since he'd last seen her. It was slowly putting him in an irritable mood because Tom was certain he just wanted a good lay out of the Hufflepuff...which yes, a part of him did but it never filled him up.

Instead it oddly left him feeling empty...Something he didn't quite understand, much less liked.

The young boy cleared his throat. "Ophelia?"

"Yes." Professor Slughorn nodded his head. "Professor Roseweed and I were talking you see-."

 _Ah, that empty headed creature._

"She mentioned that Miss Darwin was escorted to class by Mister Campion." Slughorn interjected a small detail about the Ravenclaw boy. "Smart boy, unusual upbringing. Anyways, Roseweed implied that the two might be an item soon."

Tom's fist clenched behind his back, "Really?" The Slytherin prefect kept his emotions under check as he easily flowed with the conversation. "Funny. Ophelia never mentioned Mister Campion to me before." He forced with gritted teeth another smooth comment. "I do hope Ophelia and I can still remain close if they do become an item."

The handsome young man phrased it as if he was going to give the Hufflepuff a choice.

With Slughorn under the impression Tom didn't see Miss Darwin in a romantic sense, a laugh escaped out into the world. "I do hope so too, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."

The calm and polite facade Tom had nearly crumbled as confusion tried to drown him. _What was that supposed to mean?_ Was it a code? Was it a suggestion?

"Tom," Slughorn eventually added on when he was finally done laughing. "Young girls live for relationships and romance. Not to be too bold but, as soon as Miss Darwin and Mister Campion become a thing-if they do-she'll want to spend as much time with him. Love will be the only thing on her mind."

"Love?" Tom didn't enjoy the sound of that word as it rolled of his mouth with the punctuation of a question. Though maybe he didn't like the word associated with Ophelia and some random guy.

"Yes, love." Slughorn smiled as he remembered his own romantic encounters as a young man until he realized in a couple of minutes he would have a class to teach. "Anyways, I just wanted to run that by you to prepare you to see less of Miss Darwin." Slughorn began to waltz off to get everything needed for the day's lesson from the supply closet in the classroom. "I've heard from Dumbledore you two are quite close."

Oh look, another mention of something Tom disliked strongly. The Slytherin said nothing as the aching feeling in his chest morphed into a hollow and angry sensation that all of his body felt.

* * *

Peter and William were not too sure why they'd allow themselves to talk about Ophelia to Edmund Campion, but to be honest the conversation took an unexpected turn. It went from talking about winter plans with their respective families, career choices they'd look at in the near future, to Quidditch (which all three boys played), then Edmund finally transitioned to what he wanted. "That Hufflepuff with the brown hair who watches you guys practice and go to all your house's games." The Ravenclaw went on, "Darwin, she's a friend of yours, right?

Peter wasn't too sure where this was going. "Pipa-yeah. We've been friends since first year."

William let a chuckled out. "Then Peter and Margo introduced me to Pipa sometime after they were all chummy-so I've been friends with her just as long as them."

 _Pipa…_ Edmund figured that was her nickname and while it was cute, the nickname did not fit the girl the way her actual name did. "Does Ophelia fancy anyone in particular at the moment?"

"What?" William wasn't sure he heard right.

"Huh?" Peter felt like he was asked a personal question about relative.

Both Hufflepuff boys exchanged a quick glance with the other before they muttered their answers.

Peter started off, "Not that I know. Pipa is just Pipa...I don't think she even focuses on that stuff."

"Fancying people?" Edmund asked.

William spoke next. "She might to be honest. I think she told me she had to meet up with Tom Riddle and help him with an essay when first got back this year. Pipa tends to help him out a lot."

"I have Slug Club with Riddle." Edmund carried on, "Seems like a nice enough guy."

Peter furrowed his eyebrows and he turned to William. "So she helps him out every once and while and you think she fancies Riddle?"

William shrugged. "I mean, yeah. Riddle is bloody brilliant so why would he even need her help, and why else would she help him? It must be because she has a thing for the boy." The seventh year turned to the Ravenclaw, "Wouldn't you think?"

The Ravenclaw did not like being put on the spot, much less, when he was trying to pull information out of Zolotov and Elwood. "Friends most likely." That was Campion's answer because he hoping the Slytherin male and Hufflepuff female were only that: friends.

Peter's eye lit up, he was basically correct if someone else was agreeing with him. "Plus," the Elwood heir went on, "If Riddle fancied her or if Pipa fancied him, they've been friends since...first year as well. They would have dated or be dating by then or now but they stay friends."

Or at the very least, both William Zolotov and Peter Elwood knew if anything happened between Pipa and Riddle, Margo would have screamed to it into their ears before she screamed it out into the world.

The Ravenclaw was relieved that he got the information he wanted. It would make approaching Ophelia Darwin easier without wondering if she had a lad she was sweet on.

* * *

The Slytherin prefect waited patiently with his foot deathly still and his posture as perfect as it could be outside the History of Magic class. If he remembered correctly, History of Magic tended to Ophelia's last class of the day.

As the door pushed opened and student rushed out, Tom easily spotted a girl with mousy, straight, brown hair and green eyes. He approached her without a second thought; one cold hand securely latched onto her left hip as he pushed her in the direction he wanted.

"Hey!" Ophelia tensed as she had no choice but to allow herself to be directed any which way. An unnerving sense of dread filled her as she realized that he stirred her farther away from the crowd of students.. _.Farther away from witnesses._

The Room of Requirement appeared, Tom opened its grand doors and easily shoved Ophelia in first.

For a brief moment, the half-blooded witch was reminded of her morning and how the Ravenclaw she just met had opened a classroom door for her without shoving her. Edmund Campion seemed sweet...Unlike the current young man she found herself in the company with.

"Tom!" Ophelia didn't try to hide her upset tone with the Slytherin boy. "What the hell are you doing?" In her mind, one of the things that kept her fairly safe from Tom's mean tendencies towards her was the fact that he never pulled his cruel stunts in public.

Tom Riddle closed and locked the doors of the Requirement Room, a displeased look came on his face. His brown eyes narrowed at the girl as he walked towards her. In every step he took, there was authority and dominance and when he closed in on Ophelia, their chests close together and her back forced up against a stone wall. Even if Tom enjoyed how Ophelia felt as he used his body to cage the girl in-he felt livid.

"Who the fuck is Edmund Campion?" Tom knew Edmund Campion but not personally. To the heir of Slytherin, Campion was some Ravenclaw student. Though now, he wanted to know who the fuck Campion was to Ophelia.

"What?" Ophelia had her hands in the center of Tom's chest, but she didn't try to push him off of her. _It would just make everything worse_ , she told herself. _I'd be giving the spark to the flame he wants to burn me up with._

Tom had his hands on Ophelia's hips; he pulled those petite hips of hers upwards and practically slammed it close to his pelvis. "I know you're slow so let me restate it." A painful amount of pressure was used as Tom's fingers dug into the fabric of Ophelia's skirt, causing a mixed sensation of either bruising or pinching to her skin. "Who the fuck is Edmund Campion?"

Even though Ophelia was certain she did nothing wrong, a strong sense of guilt was prodded around in her body. "I just met him today." Ophelia knew that maybe her statement wasn't the exact truth but it wasn't that much of a lie either. (Maybe her little, white lie was the reason Ophelia Darwin felt guilty.) She only found out the Ravenclaw's name that morning so technically-Ophelia wasn't being too dishonest with Tom.

"Then why do Slughorn and Roseweed have it in their heads you and Campion are going to be an item." Tom's voice was close to a growl, he was almost certain that Ophelia was just lying to save herself. Maybe she hung out with him when Tom was busy devoting himself to worthwhile research. Maybe on nights Tom wasn't in her, that fool was. In his mind the image of Ophelia lying in bed with a stranger flooded his thoughts; hot rage soon flooded fiber of his body. "Are you lying to me?" Tom looked into dull green eyes intently. "I can promise you, I will make you miserable if you are lying."

At the mention of Professor Roseweed, it was now Ophelia's turn to get angry. "He walked me from Transfiguration to Herbology!" Ophelia nearly yelled. "I was late by a few seconds and Roseweed made a big deal out of it. I literally introduced myself to him and he introduced himself back! Roseweed was the one who fabricated the rest about Campion and I!" Ophelia closed her eyes tightly and sighed. Even though Tom had her pinned down and held tightly, her skinny body still managed to shake with anger. "Fuck….That woman really shouldn't be a professor of any sort."

The prefect paused and read the expression on the Hufflepuff's face: annoyance, anger, and stress all shared a space on her features. Tom knew his filthy witch...She couldn't fake any of those emotions at the drop of a hat-it must have been the truth. Tom removed his hands from Ophelia's body right before he completely removed the rest of him off of her. He got the answers he wanted.

Ophelia remained against the wall, unsure of what Tom would do next.

Tom Riddle walked calmly out of the Room of Requirement; not once did he glance back at Ophelia.

A small gasp of discomfort escaped Ophelia's body as she finally removed herself from the stony wall. She was certain Tom left the bruises on her hips on purpose.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice.

I hope you guys didn't wait too long for the next chapter, and if you did I am sorry about that.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter and this is a long so it might have a bunch of errors. Let me know and I will fix it as soon as I can.

Thank you for reading this! Thank you to all those who favorite and follow this series! Please let me know what you think by leaving a review. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Also a big thank you to those who review! It lets me know that this story is being read and doing decently! Let me know what you think or let me know what you think will happen next. Anyways, enjoy! Again, a big thank you to those who leave me reviews! I adore you guys!

This story is rated 'M' for a reason-this chapter contains a sex scene. You've been warned.

* * *

 _December 4,1943_

Ophelia inspected her hips carefully as she stood in front of a mirror; the bruises on her hips had gone from an ugly purple color to a mild yellow tone that suggested it was slowly going away. The Hufflepuff went through different spectrums of emotion with Tom the past week. At first she was fearful, because Tom practically snatching her away in _public_ was something he'd never done. As soon as she was done feeling fearful Ophelia panicked, because what if Tom being more aggressive towards her in public became their new normal? Soon that panic turned into confusion, because come to think of it, the only reason Tom Marvolo-fucking prick-Riddle was mad at Ophelia Mae Darwin had to do with that fact _**MAYBE**_ another wizard liked her?

Then when she realized Tom Marvolo-fucking, selfish, bastard prick-Riddle was mad at _ **her**_ because another male showed her a small sense of gentlemanly decency- Ophelia damn near lost her shit. She was livid.

The only thing that kept the half-blood witch from screaming at the top of her lungs had to do with being in the Grand Hall during dinner on Friday when her realization hit….Plus, she caught of glimpse of Edmund Campion as he entered and she didn't want to seem more of nut to him.

Ophelia sighed and began to raid her closet for something to Margo's liking to wear for the day out. A full on smirk came to her lips as her eyes scanned the articles of clothing hung up. "How about I wear my black turtleneck and my brown-."

"If your sentence finishes off with the words 'tweed skirt', I will end you." Margo had been lying on her stomach, flipping through some letters her parents written to her. The pure-blooded witch seemed on bored out of her mind and spending her parent's money was something she absolutely needed to do before the stress of being a student overtook her.

"Haha," Ophelia chuckled lightly reaching for a white long sleeved blouse with a Victorian looking neckline. Once that blouse was on her body and buttoned up, it was easily paired with a long, chestnut plaid fall skirt with only four buttons along the front of it. Ophelia decided to opt for her daffodil colored loafers (the snow wasn't going to stop her from wearing her favorite pair of shoes!) "Is this for your liking then?"

Margo looked up from her letters; she frowned but she supposed it was better than the turtleneck and tweed skirt her friend seem to always wanted to wear. "It'll do." Margo smirked as a realization came to her head. "Just leave your hair lovely and down, don't put up or braid it because you might be mistaken for a nanny."

Ophelia laughed as she looked at her reflection at the mirror. Even though she liked the outfit she threw on together, she really did look like a nanny. "Well, I can be the wildly attractive nanny that no wife would want their husband to be around."

Margo stifled the rest of her laughter as she got up and grabbed her friend's arm. "Come on, off to Hogsmeade. Winter fashion sales are beginning and I plan to shop until I drop."

Ophelia only rolled her eyes as she grabbed her winter coat on the way out. "Of course."

This was the first weekend of December and for many Hogwart students this meant this was the calm before the storm. Quizzes, essays, tests, exams, finals and such were upon them. One last good day of goofing around in Hogsmeade would do them some good.

Hell, even Tom Riddle decided to show up to Hogsmeade that day. He wore a grey cotton sweater, brown pants, and a black, double breasted overcoat. Tom's Slytherin scarf was also a nice touch to his attire for the day.

Not to anyone's surprise, many female students fawned at the sight of Tom Riddle.

Had Margo and Ophelia not been walking with their arms linked together, the Blaine girl would have probably nudged the Darwin girl.

Margo didn't even try to sound discreet she caught a glimpse of Tom and his friends (in her mind, she was sure they were Tom's friends.) "He is so handsome." Margo smiled at her friend, "Seriously, Tom Riddle donates so much of his time to you but you're caught up on one wizard who has only spoken to you, what, five times?"

"Donates his time to me?" Ophelia felt slightly offended. "You make me sound like a charity case."

"No!" Margo insisted. "That's good. According to my gran and her best friend-."

"Margo, please, no." The half-blooded witch's plea fell to deaf ears.

The pure-blooded witch went on. "They say that you want a man who treats you like a charity case-it means they want to take care of you and are invested in you." A long sigh escaped Margo before she went on, no doubt she was thinking of Peter. "Because when a man does that, it means he might one day want to marry you."

"Marriage, love, romance, Peter." Ophelia tried not to sound condescending to her best friend as they walked to a shop called 'Odd and Odder', a little place to find strange, wonderful, and for the most part useless trinkets and books. A lot of times it was closed , but today it just so happened to be opened. "Is that all you ever think about, Margo?"

A smile came to the beautiful blonde's lips. "Yes and visiting the muggle side of Europe. Though I really don't give a damn if you think I need to put other things in my head."

"At the rate you think up romances, love, marriages and Peter I honestly don't think you could put other things in your head." Ophelia smiled back to her friend. "Just be sure to invite me to the wedding."

The doors of 'Odd and Odder' swung open and the two girls stepped in. The sounds of two young teen males laughing drew them to an aisle off to right side of the building.

Peter and William were on the ceiling, having tea with the shop owners. Thanks to magic, none of the food, drinks, utensils fell on the girls.

"Good afternoon Mister and Missus Unichev." Ophelia greeted warmly looking directly up at the ceiling. "You all look like bats hanging from tree limbs."

"No." William retorted with a child like tone, "You look like a bat hanging from tree limbs."

The Unichevs were lovely old people from Albania. The old witch and wizard duo moved to England to be closer with daughter and their grandchildren nearly twenty years ago. While they were old and didn't need to work (something about having a wildly successful charm and common household potions business), they were sure extra money wouldn't hurt their pockets.

Peter looked down at Ophelia. "Pipa, my grandparents have told you many times they would prefer you to call them by their first names."

Margo smiled up at the old couple. "Miremengjes Marco dhe Anne." (Good afternoon Marco and Anne.)

"Come up and join us ladies." Marco Unichev waved his waved in the air and in an instant the two girls were settled on the ceiling having tea time with Peter his grandparents and William. "I get so tired looking at these two eat." Marco gestured a firm hand over to Peter and William's direction. "Like pigs."

Anne Unichev snapped her fingers and tea began to fill into the girls' cups. "That is an insult to pigs." The older woman snapped her fingers again and a small plate of biscuits hovered over to Ophelia and Margo. "I made extra for you."

Ophelia drank and ate as everyone at the table chattered and joked with one another. She was content to stay inside the Odd and Odder shop.

The sound of a ringing bell echoed through the shop, it signaled a customer stepped in.

"Hello?" It was a male voice.

Ophelia felt her heart quicken in her chest. _Is that…?_

"Yes," Marco's voice boomed. "We are opened."

When the male voice finally appeared to the people on the ceiling have tea, his eyes immediately drifted over to the brunette at the table.

"Good afternoon Darwin." Gray eyes then shifted over to acknowledge the rest of the people having tea on the ceiling. "Everyone else."

Ophelia smiled, "Campion!" From underneath the table, Ophelia left Margo kick her feet. Ophelia ignored it. "Buying something from the shop?"

A charming, half grin broke on Edmund's face as an unplanned but perfect reply came out of his mouth. "I will if it means you go on a date with me."

 _Did he just…?_ A blush came to her cheeks as she smiled down at the boy. Margo kicked her leg again and something that sounded like a muted scream was being hummed through the air.

Marco laughed and Anne looked down at the Ravenclaw boy. "We have a sale on shells that allow you hear the beaches of places around the world. Pick one then lovely girl is yours the rest of the day." Anne and Marco gently floated away from the ceiling and back to the floor. "Follow us."

With wide eyes William snapped his head from his cup of tea to Edmund's retreating figure, back to his cup of tea, then over to Ophelia. "Are you about to go on a date or is this tea spiked?"

"Hey!" Ophelia threw a sugar cube across the table at William. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Margo shook her head, "No. Pipa isn't going on a date with anyone." The blonde looked over to her friend. "Right?"

Ophelia's blush was still on her cheeks as she tried to coax Margo into letting her hang out with Edmund for the day. "Well, I mean a date is more like a pre-planned thing between two people and you all witness how Campion had asked me right now."

"Pipa!" Margo started whine.

A small part of Ophelia's soul felt sorry for Peter. If Margo and Peter really did marry, then wow, good luck. Still, the half-blooded witch looked over to Peter, she careful titled her head towards the direction of Margo's whining.

Peter sighed. He supposed it was time to let Margo share her best friend with another person outside their collective group. "Margo." Peter Elwood's voice was smooth and calming as he addressed the blonde. He easily thought up a topic that would keep Margo occupied. "Speaking of dates when do you think you'll find out who you're getting betrothed to?"

Margo's whining stopped. "Sometime during winter break actually. Mother and father want to host a grand party for when they drop the news."

Peter nodded his head, he prompted Margo to continue on.

 _Yes!_ Ophelia smirked at Peter, who only rolled his eyes at her. William pushed his tea cup away, he was convinced that it was spiked.

Fifteen minutes later, Edmund Campion purchased a conch shell that allowed him to hear the beaches of Hawaii. A beautiful brunette walked by his side as they exited out of Odd and Odder.

* * *

"So," The Hufflepuff started out as they walked through Hogsmeade. "What made you want to spend a day with me?"

The Ravenclaw slowed his pace down and inched a little closer to the witch. "I wanted to see if you were going to scream out any more windows, or get drunk. I also felt like possibly getting yelled at another professor for letting cold air into a room."

Embarrassment crashed on Ophelia. Did Campion just see her as someone to poke fun at? _Oh Merlin...What if he just wants to be friends?_

Edmund then nudged the half-blooded witch lightly with his elbow. "Alright, fine. I guess my sense of humor is something you need to warm up to." His gray eyes met her green eyes. "I thought you were a funny little thing and you caught my attention."

Ophelia almost melted then and there, but she knew she had to at least pretend to behave and act like she had a good shoulder on her head. _Wait...what?_ She was sure she had that saying backwards but still! Ophelia knew she had to act right. "You know what caught my attention?"

A pleasant, "Huh?" came from the handsome blonde male's mouth.

"I know close to nothing about you." Ophelia then added, "Unless you want me to take the rumors I heard about you as the valid truth."

A sense of discomfort hit Edmund deep in the gut but he realized that right by him, was a girl willing to know about him...The sense of discomfort in his gut was replaced with a fluttering sensation. _She's giving me a chance?_ Edmund almost couldn't believe it. Ophelia already struck him as a girl who was sweet, but a sweet girl who was still interested in him after she most likely heard about his mother? After she heard about him more or less being a player? _Oh, Merlin...and she's easy on the eyes too._

As gently as he could, Edmund grabbed her hand and began to lead her into away from the direction they were aimlessly walking in.

Involuntarily, Ophelia flinched. At the back of her mind, she thought about how Tom would just yank and pull at her.

"Sorry." Edmund paused, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, no, no." Ophelia shook her head and she forced a small chuckle out as a hope to calm both of them down. "I wasn't expecting that is all." _I was expecting more of a firm and bruising grip on my wrist while being forced into a room, while being told I am incompetent but this is nice._

"Okay." Edmund took a deep breath, his hand still holding onto Ophelia's. "Let's go to The Three Broomsticks. We can sit down, we can chit chat, and if you want, you can know more about me."

It started out simply enough, the started with basic things about each other. Ophelia loved potted shrimps, early Saturday mornings, and reading the paper with her Poppa. Edmund loved a traditional, English full breakfast, Friday nights, and spending time in his family's summer estate in France.

"You've ever been to France?" Edmund asked as he waved for a waitress to come over to their table.

"I've never been outside of England!" Ophelia shook her head, "I had to move out of London before this year started actually, now we have a house in West Berkshire."

Ophelia spoke on about why her and family had to move, Edmund felt stupid for his lack of knowledge on what was going on in the muggle world. He'd forgotten that the muggles were in a war of their own.

Which then prompted a newly fueled curiosity for the Ravenclaw. How was growing up in a muggle world?

Ophelia smiled as she recalled her childhood, "Poppa was always making a mess of things with his magic so I knew there was more, you know? Though, I remember riding my bike around the block with my school mates. Going to school and learning about science and math and literature." Ophelia closed her eyes and the memory of her and her mother cooking dinner in the kitchen flood her brain. "I did a lot of things without the use of magic basically." She then asked about how his childhood went about. Was he always surrounded by witches and wizards?

Edmund put down his fork and ran a hand through his blonde hair as he recalled his childhood. "My mother would not let me, for the longest time, go to bed without singing the Hoggy Warty Hogwarts song. It finally stopped when I was six and stopped sounding cute, I suppose." Edmund paused for a moment until something came into mind. "My favorite person in the world then was my uncle, Enzo. He'd take me everywhere with him and he was the first person who taught me how to fly a broom. His older now and has a family of his own, but he gives me a few pointers in Quidditch when we see each other."

Ophelia bit her lower lip slightly, she wasn't sure if she should say what was on her mind but she was going to anyways. "You don't seem too particularly close to your family?" The only reason why Ophelia said that was because Edmund seemed tense and weary as he spoke about his childhood.

While she didn't feel pity or sorry for the Ravenclaw teen-she did want to make him feel better somehow.

He gave her an easy going shrug, "I've learned to accept the dynamics of my family and home situation. Besides, either way, I still inherit everything and more." When he was a child it used to cut and sting deep on the inside how terribly busy his mother was-what hurt more was the fact his grandparents didn't warm up to him until finally got his letter from Hogwarts. Also, as a general rule to not fuck himself over emotionally: he never thought about who his father was.

"So you mentioned an estate in France," Ophelia prodded on. "Do you go there in the summer when your family is busy?"

Most pure-bloods might have Ophelia's forwardness about their families insulting, good thing Edmund was already shunned by most pure-bloods. "Yes, honestly. I'd rather be in France than the regular posh and proper estate we have here." _Did I sound like a rich prick..._ Edmund wondered. _Fuck, I did._

"Uh, well." Ophelia cleared her throat, she hoped her proposal to Edmund would at least be met with a polite rejection. "If you'd like, like I said, I just moved to West Berkshire and I didn't get to explore it yet so...If you'd like, this summer you could dropped by and visit if France becomes too posh and proper for you."

Edmund felt something tug violently at his heartstrings and he felt something start to knot itself up in the pit of his stomach. His voice almost cracked completely, "Sure!" _Calm yourself, Campion_. Edmund took a sip of butterbeer before he spoke again, "I'd like that. Thanks, Darwin."

A toothy smile broke onto Ophelia's face, "Anytime, Campion."

As the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff continued to learn more about each other, they weren't aware of the Slytherin that stumbled upon them.

Tom had kept an eye on them for what was probably a good, solid two hours. He didn't know why but every smile, laugh, and _look_ that Edmund directed towards Ophelia made Tom want to absolutely throw a multitude of curses his way. Tom also could help but feel a sense of betrayal.

Tom balled his fists up, no.

From day one, Ophelia was his. The second he laid on her and she proved to be useful: she was his. From first year through fifth year: Ophelia was always his.

Tom was going to remind her tonight of that, he could wait if he had to.

* * *

Hours later, Edmund and Ophelia finally parted for the day. The Ravenclaw even walked the girl to the entrance of the Hufflepuff house.

"Hello?" Ophelia wandered through the Hufflepuff common rooms. It was unusually empty but then again, this weekend was indeed, the calm before the storm.

Ophelia combed her fingers through her brown hair and headed towards the girl's dormitory room; she didn't feel alone. She froze in her steps and called out once more, "Hello? Is anyone else home?"

Silence greeted her. _Well then,_ Ophelia started to unbutton her blouse as she continued to the girl's room. A nice warm shower would suit her fine; a nice long one at that too. Her blouse was all unbuttoned and lying on the floor as soon as got into her room. Her skirt was the next thing to drop from her body, then her bra. She was about to drop her undies down until a voice made her freeze completely.

"Was that show for me?" The voice was smooth as silk. "How kind of you."

Immediately, Ophelia protectively cupped her bare breast with her hands and turned towards where the sound originated from: her bed.

"Tom?" Ophelia stood still at the sight of a Slytherin lying on her bed comfortably. She easily noted how he was fully clothed and she was damn near naked. "How'd-when-what are you?" The half-blooded witch didn't know where to start; her random sputtering of words came to a halt.

"Lie down with me, why don't you?" Tom pulled off his sweater and threw it down on the ground.

Ophelia was trying to get a grasp on what was going on. _He wants sex…? In my room?_ Ophelia took a step back. "We can't! My housemates will be back soon and-."

"No." Tom said sternly, "They won't."

"Margo, Peter, and William will be wondering where I am and they'll-."

The heir of Slytherin stood up and walk towards his prey. "They _**won't**_." Tom, with as much control as he could muster, put his hands lightly on Ophelia's hips. "They all think you're with Edmund Campion."

There! That was it! That's what he was just itching to say to her! Ophelia wanted to pull away but the patterns Tom slowly traced on her hips made her stay. "You saw us…" Ophelia whispered lowly.

All of Tom's moves were carefully calculated. He watched how warmly and careful the bastard Ravenclaw was towards Ophelia, he saw how she practically adored everything that flew out that of that's bastard mouth too. Tom was going to get Ophelia back under his thumb and this was probably the best way to do it.

"I did." The heir of Slytherin placed a kiss on the base of Ophelia's neck. "You told me," Tom said trying his best not snap at her. "That you just met him." Another kiss was placed on her neck. "Yet, you looked very comfortable with him." Tom looked Ophelia's eyes. "It also looked like a date." He saw the fear in her eyes, and he thought, there was nothing more beautiful than Ophelia when she realizes she's way in over her head. Tom brought one hand away from her hip and cupped the side of her face. Their lips pressed together, for sweet and chaste kiss.

"Why are you doing this?" Ophelia asked as they broke apart from the innocent kiss. Tom had only kissed her like that once-and it was only because at that time-it was the first kiss between them.

Tom kissed her again; his perfect lips against hers. "Why wouldn't I do this?" The heir of Slytherin pulled away from the half-blooded witch and lifted her into his arms bridal style.

Ophelia's heart was going wild, her blood pressure probably was at an unusually high rate when Tom laid her flat on her back with him calmly straddling her body.

He wanted her to feel good. Unbelievable good. Tom Riddle wanted Ophelia to think of him whenever she spoke to Campion. He hooked his fingers onto the sides of her undies and slid them off her body before he took off his boxers.

"Tom-."

"Hush."

Ophelia was terrified...This wasn't what she was used to with him. "I don't think you are feeling right."

"You're right." Tom decided to let a small bit of malice show as he lowered his head down between her legs; his breath hitting against her womanhood as if he was taunting her. "I'll feel better after I remind you who's in charge." As soon as he said that, Tom let his tongue lick Ophelia's wet folds. He was surprised to find that he actually didn't mind the taste of Ophelia. Tom plunged his tongue into her opening while his hands found other ways to please the witch he was with. A pale white hand found a spot on Ophelia's left breast, pinching and fondling painfully slow much for her dislike. While another hand, easily focused on strumming the half-blooded witch's clit. All while, Tom's tongue lapped her up and pumped into her as if it was a different anatomy of his body in her.

"Tom…" Ophelia moaned his name. But in the back of her mind...Tom wasn't who she was thinking of.

Tom growled against Ophelia's cunt before he pulled away; he could read her mind without even trying. The heir knew exactly who she was thinking about. _Stay in control, stay in control._ Instead of lashing out on her, Tom trailed back to Ophelia's face and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

There was a tangy after taste shared between the two; Tom deepened the kiss and slowly he began to rub the head of his dick against her wet and slick folds. "Are you ready for me?"

 _What the hell is going on?_ Ophelia wanted to scream. _Tom was never this sweet in bed!...Did someone slip amortentia in his drinks?_ The Hufflepuff nearly pushed the prefect off of her body. Oh, Merlin! Did she just take advantage of him?

A genuine chuckle broke from Tom's lips-he really didn't have to try to read her mind _. No, sweet fool._ Tom thought as he planted another deep kiss on Ophelia's lips. "Are you ready for me or not, Ophelia?" He rubbed himself a bit more prominently against her as he waited for an answer.

"Yeah…" Ophelia sounded far away from him. Lust clouded her brain.

Tom didn't hesitate for a second as soon as he heard her reply. Though unlike the other times, they had sex where he just pounded into as fast and as hard as he could-he wanted Ophelia to feel good.

Tom needed her to remember exactly who made her feel the way he did. At first he started out slow but he made sure he was hitting that sweet spot deep in her core. Ophelia initiated a kiss, her short moans escaped between their lips when they had to pull apart for air. No matter how well, she kissed him, Tom was going to keep a steady pace for the time being.

"Ahhh...Oh...Tom…" Ophelia started huff out, the flush on her face was becoming evident. It was like she was drunk of the sex. "Tom….Please…"

Yes,that was what Tom was waiting for: Ophelia at his mercy (much like the good old days.)

"Please what?" Tom hummed nonchalantly. He could tell that at the back of his witch's mind-it was him she was thinking about now. Not some bastard Ravenclaw.

" _Please…_ " Ophelia moaned.

"Ooh." Tom taunted only quicken his pace for a slight minute before slowing back down. "You want me to fuck you faster?" Tom bucked his hips deep into Ophelia before pulling his dick halfway out and slamming himself back into her core. "Beg for me."

 _Did I hear that right?_ Ophelia dug her hands deep into her bed. _No, I am sure I heard him right._

"Beg." Tom's tone was forceful as he began to slowly buck into her. "Beg, Ophelia."

 _Fuck!_

She did. Ophelia played right into her Slytherin prefect's hand and beg for him. "Please, Tom. Please, please, _please_ go faster."

"Only fast." Tom said as he quickened his pace but he refused to hit that sweet spot deep inside Ophelia. "If you say so."

"Tom!" Ophelia moaned. "Deep and fast….Ahhh...Please."

A cold smirk painted itself onto Tom's face: he was close to getting things back to how he wanted. Tom gave the filthy half-blood what she begged for. His pumps were swift and deep as he bucked into her tight and wet cavern.

"Tom...Tom...Ahh...Tom…"

Her moans filled the room.

"Are you close, Ophelia?" Tom moaned lowly. "Cum for me." He slowed his pace down and focused on deeper penetration. "Cum for me, Ophelia." Tom pressed his forehead against hers. Leaving the girl no choice to look at the heir of Slytherin as an orgasm rocked through her body.

"Oh, fuck! Tom!" Ophelia both cursed and moaned as she felt her wet walls tighten against him.

A moan escaped Tom as he realized that he too, also came around the same time as Ophelia.

Both teens took in a deep breath before settling into bed. Sleep was on Ophelia's mind. Tom, on the other hand, wasn't done with his manipulation of his half-blooded witch. He wrapped his arms around the fair skinned witch and pulled her into him.

Ophelia's face was pressed against his chest, but Tom could already see the face of absolute confusion she sported.

"Stay with me like this for a moment." Tom demanded.

Ophelia didn't reply. All she knew was felt ashamed of her actions while she positive Tom felt absolutely proud of himself.

Ophelia felt dirt...filthy..guilty.

All she could do was stay still as the world's future most deadliest wizard cuddled her against his body. Though of course, Ophelia didn't know that about Tom yet.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter and this is a long one so it might have a bunch of errors. Let me know and I will fix it as soon as I can.

I am now in the process of moving in with a friend and so we both will be cut off from the internet for a best, a month due certain moving expenses. I am apologizing in advance for that. I am so sorry and I hope guys will forgive me! I swear I will update as soon as I can once I am all done with the move and have everything sorted out! Sorry guys!

This story is rated 'M' for a reason-this chapter contains a scene of abuse/magic being used in a violent way. You've been warned. I wrote this song listening to 'Primadonna' by Marina and the Diamonds for the first portion. Then for the rest of chapter, I listened to 'I Put a Spell on You' by Screamin' Jay Hawkins, so give those songs a listen if you think it'll add more to the chapter.

Thank you for reading this! Thank you to all those who favorite and follow this series! Please let me know what you think by leaving a review. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Also a big thank you to those who review! It lets me know that this story is being read and doing decently! Let me know what you think or let me know what you think will happen next. Anyways, enjoy! Again, a big thank you to those who leave me reviews! I adore you guys!

* * *

 _December 5, 1943_

Primadonna-noun-a very temperamental person with a very high opinion of themselves in terms of importance, talent or skill. Also known as Margaret Blaine. Though, it wasn't just Margo who held herself in high regard, no, she included Peter and even William on the up and up of pure-blood society. A person who she held the highest esteem and respect for, her favorite half-blood: Ophelia.

It nearly broke her heart when she found Pipa wasn't a pure-blood. Margo was sure Hogwarts was going to chew up and spit the brunette girl out as if she was last week's gourmet lamb shanks. The half-blooded witch proved the pure-blooded witch wrong.

Margo was, above all else, thrilled when Pipa had a natural knack of taking all things with a enormous grain of salt.

The blonde hair, blue eyed beauty never could fathom even walking a block in the brunette's shoes...Margo was sure however, Pipa could run miles in hers. Margo even had a vision about it too. Her best friend, rubbing elbows with the refined pure-bloods of the wizarding world and it wasn't Edmund Campion who stood besides Pipa.

Which was why, Margo Blaine found herself sneaking out of the her shared sleeping space at six in the morning to meet with the one she thought suited Pipa best. Although having visions on the future was always a gamble-sometimes Margo's visions came true but sometimes they didn't, she could still meddle in the affairs of her friends. Margo Blaine practically lived for that.

"Margaret Blaine," Tom showed off a toothy, white smile. "I thought you wouldn't show up this morning." That was a lie, Tom knew damn fine and well that the Blaine girl would indeed show up. Especially when Tom had caught Margo alone in the Grand Hall after Ophelia refused to make an appearance for dinner. Which prompted the heir of Slytherin to realize how yesterday, as he held his Hufflepuff in his arms, that a good shag wasn't going to get Ophelia right back in line. He had to pull some extra strings.

Margo was that extra string. The way women, even young ones, worked was simple: you get one friend to be on your side, then you get the one you want on your side as well. So Tom simply asked Margo if she could meet up with him to discuss their favorite and only thing they had in common.

"Riddle," Margo greeted warmly to the Slytherin prefect. "How might I help you this fine morning?"

 _Time to play dumb._ Tom dropped the toothy smile and let a sullen tone drop over his features. "Well, as you know, last night I just heard a lot of things about Ophelia going out on a date with a bloke our year and I was curious about it, you know?" Tom paused for a slight second to look at the blonde witch-a look of hope flickered in her eyes. He continued, "I was going to just ask if it was true or not, but then came dessert of last night's meal and I could not stand the idea of Ophelia on a date with someone and I couldn't find her!"

Tom's voice portrayed more raw emotion forced in this setting than it ever did on his own natural way of speaking.

"Oh, Riddle!" Margo's eyes were filled with something akin to sympathy for the boy. She was hated to be the one to break the news, but Margo figured she had to do it. (Even though, Tom already knew it all.) The pretty blonde let out a quiet sigh. "Pipa was asked on a date, but I doubt it went well! When I finally got back to the girl's dormitory, she was so sullen!"

A small pang of short-lived guilt echoed in the handsome teen's body. Tom knew he was the true reason behind Ophelia's sullen mood-he didn't care nor did he mind it. A part of him liked being able to influence Ophelia's emotions to major extremes. "Sullen?" Tom pretended to sound outraged, "Who made her feel like that?"

Margo scoffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder, "Some Ravenclaw who really isn't worth her time."

Tom nodded his head in false agreement. For all he knew, Edmund Campion could be Ophelia's soul mate but there was no way Tom was going to share his play thing with another male. "Blaine, may I ask something?"

Margo offered a friendly smile to Tom, "Yes?"

"Do you think, oh Merlin, this is embarrassing." He paused to scratch the back of his neck and give a forced boyish grin. "Do you think, as Ophelia's friend, that I could be worth her time?"

Margo nearly screamed her reply. "Yes! Goodness, Tom! I keep telling Pipa, you and her would be the best couple!" Margo then completely stopped her talking and Tom's question sink into her brain properly. "Wait! So are you telling me that...you like Pipa?"

 _I like how she feels underneath me. I like how she makes me feel when I know she is scared of me._ If Tom could have pretended to blush, he would have but he didn't have the luxury of that ability. Instead he settled for giving the pure-blooded witch a smile and a small shrug. "Is it that obvious?"

Margo could have died of happiness.

Tom smirked at how easy it was to manipulate the Blaine witch.

The two soon concocted a plan.

* * *

"It's sure awful quiet this morning," William stated as he sipped his tea in the comfort of the common room.

"Margo's out," Ophelia said with a yawn as she settled deeper into the couch. Her pale green eyes went over her history notes for her upcoming test on witch executions. The half-blooded witch was particularly worn out and tired today. "She's been out for quite some time now."

Peter shot a look at the brunette who sat in between him and William. "On a Sunday?" Peter was confused as he lowered his current issue of the Daily Prophet. "Margo doesn't wake until half past ten on Sundays." The Elwood heir looked to the clock that hung in the common room. "I'm barely even eight in the morning."

A smug grin broke on William's face. "Ohh. Maybe Margo is off buying skimpy lingerie for you."

"William." Ophelia elbowed the Zolotov boy in his ribs. "Don't."

"I doubt she is." Peter stated calmly as he brought his new paper back up to his face. "Even so, at least I have a girl willing to impress me in such a way."

Ophelia put down her notes, "So you two are betrothed to each other then?" She looked to William, "Or how does it work?"

"We won't know until Margo's engagement party, if you could even call it that." William said as he reached for a biscuit. "Meaning Peter won't know if he is supposed marry her, and meaning Margo won't know if she is supposed marry him. All we do know if pure-bloods love arranged agreements, especially the marriage kind." William shrugged and once again, a smug grin came back to his face. "I bet you my right shoe Margo gets engaged to an old man nearing his fifties, going on wife number four."

"William!" Ophelia slapped the seventh year on the arm, before she turned to Peter. "I am sure Margo's parents would never inflict an old man on her for a husband."

"Pipa!" William teased, "Look at Peter, he practically is an old man!"

Peter smirked, his eyes didn't leave the printed words of his newspaper. "What is that saying though? The older the man, the better the experience? If so might just have more experience than you , William."

A look of abject horror flashed on William's face. "Oh, you foul prick!"

Ophelia let a small chuckle escape her lips and she shook her head at the two boys. The half-blooded witch continued on to review her notes. It helped in blocking out yesterday's last few activities.

Silence surround the friends like a blanket as they enjoyed each other's company.

"Good morning!"

The silence was gone as Margo practically bounced into the room but she wasn't alone.

"Hello everyone."

Ophelia tensed up.

"Ah!" William smiled, "Riddle come for a visit, have you?"

Peter nodded in acknowledgment towards the Slytherin prefect. "Riddle."

 _Fuck this bullshit_. Ophelia's eyes darted to Margo, who only smiled back at her.

"I spotted Riddle this morning, Pipa. He mentioned something about your notes for Ancient Runes and well, I thought it would be proper to invite him over seeing as you weren't feeling too great last night."

 _Those events have nothing to do with the other._ Ophelia refused to look over towards the Slytherin nor did she have the strength to deal with Margo. A part of Ophelia felt betrayed by Margo. Okay, sure, Ophelia was not forward in telling her friend the truth about Tom nor was she forward about telling Margo anything else about her and Tom.

However, Ophelia was almost certain that Margo knew about her budding interest about Edmund Campion.

It hurt Ophelia deeply.

"I'll go get my notes then." Ophelia tried to make her voice seem light and normal as possible as she apparated to her room. In a blink, she found her Ancient Runes notes and apparated back down to the common room. Without even a muttered hello or acknowledgment of who she stood before, Ophelia simply held out her notes to Tom.

"Thank you," Tom smirked. He knew what she was trying to do. "I hope I wasn't imposing on you."

 _Tom. Go. Leave._

The heir of Slytherin wasn't planning on leaving just yet. "How was your afternoon yesterday? Anything _eventful_ happen?" As he said that, lapse of their intimate rendezvous went on in his head. Ophelia's moans played in his head and a wave of satisfaction crashed down on him. His pale hands went to grab the notes that were held out ; Tom made sure to brush his fingers against her fingertips ever so slightly.

"No." Ophelia's bitter voice snapped him out of the little memory he was reliving. She didn't care anymore if she was playing with fire or a poisonous snake. A part of her wanted to hurt him or at the very least, push him away. "Besides my _date_ with Campion," Ophelia paused to fake a hum and she shrugged her shoulders in the most innocent manner she could muster. "No. Nothing else even mildly eventful happened."

A forced laugh flew from Margo's mouth. "Pipa...Please be more polite. Riddle is still a prefect even if he is your close friend." Margo thought to herself: _Pipa being moody certainly was not part of the plan._

Ophelia did her best to hold back a glare at Margo, but she didn't try to hide the strain in her voice as she addressed her words to the blonde girl. "Good thing he isn't on prefect duty right now, eh?"

Peter and William threw a glance at each other. A general look of understanding flooded the boy's expressions. There was a tension between Riddle and Darwin and whatever Margo did, she meddled into it.

 _How strange,_ William Zolotov thought as he pointed his wand at the tea set in front of him and willed it away. _Pipa isn't ever this testy._

Peter felt a headache form in the front of his. _Damn it, Margo! You need to read situations better and leave Pipa alone sometimes! Fuck!_

"Would you look at the clock!" William clapped his hand together as hard as he could to get a loud boom to echo from his hands. "Nearly nine o'clock and we haven't have breakfast. I say we just go and eat and be chummy with each other like we usually all are."

Peter then added, "I believe egg souffle sounds rather good this morning."

"I'm not hungry," Ophelia's voice softened as she turned to William and Peter. A lie quickly came up to her head on the spot. "Come to think of…" _Which Professor absolutely doesn't give a shit about Tom's charm?_ Relief and a small sense of safety flooded coursed through Ophelia's veins, "I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore about my last essay."

"Pipa, no, please join us for breakfast." Margo realized that she might have made her friend upset by bringing over someone unannounced.

Without so much as a goodbye, Ophelia apparated away from all of them and easily found herself inside the office of Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

A loud crackling boomed out through the room. Professor Dumbledore looked up from his desk over to source of the sound.

"Miss Darwin," Dumbledore arched one eyebrow up at the skinny teen while sporting a thin smile. "While it is a pleasure to see, might I suggest knocking on my office door next time?"

"Sorry Professor." Ophelia sighed and sat in the chair positioned in front of the Professor's desk. "I needed a place to hide away for a brief moment."

"Here I thought maybe you came to visit me." Professor Dumbledore only needed to look at Ophelia for a brief second longer before her could piece together something was wrong. "Do you want to talk about what is bothering you or should I assign you a job to keep your mind occupied?"

Ophelia's eyes darted over the left hand side of the desk, three stacks of papers awaited to be marked and graded. _I could tell him now...Just how terrible Tom is...I have the chance..._ The half-blooded witch slumped her back further into the chair and sighed. "How much papers would I need to grade and how long would it take me?"

Dumbledore tried not to chuckle as he could tell the teen in front of him was being serious. "That would depend on how long you wanted to be here?"

… _.No...Dumbledore wouldn't believe me anyhow_. Ophelia sighed, "Bring on the papers, I guess." _Would he?_

A soft clicking sound came from Albus Dumbledore, "Miss Darwin, I know full and well you don't want to mark off assigned essays for me for the rest of the day. What is your current plight?"

Ophelia sighed... _Now or never I suppose_ …

"Professor?"

"Yes, Darwin?"

The brunette let her eyes shift around the room for a brief moment. _You're fine. Tom isn't going to get you. He's not the boogeyman, Ophelia!_

Ophelia was right...Tom Riddle wasn't _ **the**_ boogeyman. Tom Marvolo Riddle was _ **her**_ boogeyman. He was the monster that instead of going bump in the night, he casually bullied her into doing his history homework.

"Professor," Her voice cracked and her eyes watered slightly, "I need you to promise what I say will stay between you and I to the best of your discretion."

From the look of the poor girl's face, the auburn haired wizard had an inkling of what was to come out of her mouth. He did hope, however, his assumptions were wrong. "I will do my best."

Ophelia knew where to start, what to emphasize, and where to end as she began to spoke. The Hufflepuff did her best to exclude the details of her and Tom's closeness but that wasn't important.

Tom abusing his power as a prefect to get into the restricted was important.

Tom inflicting pain on his fellow house mates was important.

Tom using a Cruciatus curse was terribly important.

Ophelia attested to it all as tears ran down her face.

Two hours had past and Dumbledore took it all in with a quiet nod and calm yet serious demeanor. "You're aware of the grave nature of all these moments you've brought to my attention, aren't you?"

Ophelia nodded as she swatted her tears away and steadied her voice. "I-I-I am, yes."

Silence settled in between the two of them for a brief moment.

"So what happens now?" Ophelia's eyes were red and puffy. "I know Selene Sharpe probably can't speak up an event she doesn't remember. I know Lestrange, Malfoy, and the rest are too scared to go against him and I-I…." There were no more words she could use to help herself out. Ophelia let herself pause. _He probably doesn't believe me._

A deep sensation of pity swelled in Dumbledore's chest as he watched the Hufflepuff before him try and keep a level head attached to her shoulders. Dumbledore did believe Ophelia-with every fiber of his being. "Now," The auburn haired wizards began, "You be careful of how you interact with Riddle."

"What? That's it?" Ophelia didn't find much comfort in that command, if it even was one. "I am already walking on eggshells around him. It's not as if I am the one provoking him to start."

Dumbledore shook his head at the student. "I know that isn't the answer you want to hear but that is the reality of your solution. Though now, at least you have me to keep a closer eye out for the you and an eye on him."

 _Take what you can and appreciate it, Ophelia. Dumbledore believes and he is a more than competent wizard. Be glad. You'll be fine._

"I'm going to really try this year to push him far away from me as possible…" Ophelia said that barely above a whisper. How many times had she that before and actually manage to that?...Or was that a harder task to manage because it was Tom Riddle who was the one who initiated their interactions.

"May you succeed in your endeavor Miss Darwin." The Transfiguration professor gave a small smile to the student, "Also, may you try and enjoy the rest of your weekend."

Something twisted around in Ophelia's gut. "Thank you, Professor."

Ophelia walked out into the open and chilly halls of Hogwarts. Snow fell quietly to the ground as she passed small gaggles of fellow students.

In her haste to get away from Tom (and Margo to a certain extent), she didn't think to grab her winter coat. Ophelia drew her wand out of the sleeve of her sweater and muttered a quick spell to allow her body to feel warm for a while.

Without even thinking much of where to go or to even check in with her friends, Ophelia did what she tended to do best when she was alone.

She wandered.

* * *

Tom Riddle knew exactly where to find the disgusting, little witch who insulted him that morning. _She was supposed to fall back under my foot._ He grimaced as he apparated from one place to the next. _She went to Dumbledore no less._ If Ophelia had gone to the auburn haired wizard two months before-Tom wouldn't have questioned or even worried about Ophelia's loyalty to him...Though the Ophelia who stood in front of him now wasn't the same Hufflepuff he'd practically grown up with in a weird sense.

The handsome teen had found Ophelia sitting on one of the benches of the snow covered Quidditch Pitch.

"What the fuck has gotten into you?" Tom snarled as he placed a hard grip on Ophelia's shoulders. He scoffed as fear flooded into her pale eyes. "You were acting so brave this morning with your little pack of badgers. Where is that false bravery now?"

Ophelia didn't answer, instead she tried to shrug Tom's hand off of her. She placed a hand over Tom's and pushed his pointer finger backwards as far back as it could go. There was no yelp of pain from Tom, he could only instinctively release Ophelia. He watched as Ophelia apparated from him.

The heir of Slytherin did not like that one bit but still, he knew where she'd go if she honestly was desperate enough to get away from him. No one knew how Ophelia's mind work more than her personal monster.

Tom apparated by the entrance of the dark forest, this time he was in front of Ophelia instead of behind. His displeasure with Ophelia had risen in a span of milliseconds-he hated it-no...Tom _loathed_ it when Ophelia purposefully ignored him.

"You ignoring me and running away from me is not going to play out in your favor, you filthy thing." Tom used his pet name for her as carefully took a step towards her. His voice was soft and mellow while it still held onto dangerous undertones.

A sad and cracked sound escaped from the witch who stood still in the snow; had Ophelia been calm it would have sounded more like a proper sarcastic scoff. "When I'm alone with you, Tom." Her voice was strained, "Nothing ever plays out in my favor."

It only took three more steps before Tom wrapped his arms possessively around his favorite prey. "Oh…"Tom let a seductive tone mix in with danger he held in his voice. "Not even when I get you to cum like yesterday?"

 _I want you gone! Leave me alone!_ In act of brash thoughts and with a short temperament, Ophelia blurted out something she was sure to end her. No-it had nothing to do with Tom's bait to get her to admit she enjoyed sex with him.

She decided to be honest with Slytherin. "Read my mind, Tom." Ophelia stated calmly. "Besides, isn't that you came to me for? To know exactly what I told Dumbledore?"

Something in Tom's heart shattered-broken glass-was all he could think of as he used _Legilimency_ to pry into Ophelia's mind. "You…" Tom seethed slowly as he saw everything play out in Ophelia's mind through memory. He tore his body away from the girl who was now causing him an unusual amount of what he could only describe as... _heartbreak_...Tom's eyes widened. _Is that what this is?_

Tom Marvolo Riddle saw two thing at once. First he saw the witch who he once thought was blind in her loyalty to him, then he saw a deep and violent red as he drew his wand out and pointed it at the witch.

Ophelia froze with fear; she knew she couldn't outrun magic. Not when there was less than two feet between her and Tom.

" _Crucio..._ " Tom whispered coldly as the curse hit the Hufflepuff. A blood curling scream filled his ears as pain flooded into his heart. As the cold breeze hit his face, Tom could have sworn he felt a tear or two escape his eyes. " _Crucio!...Crucio! Crucio…_ "

Ophelia's body wreathed in pain on the snow covered ground. Her eyes were shut lightly, her breathing shallow, but her heart was beating fast and well from the fear that blossomed in her veins.

She thought for a brief moment of the executions and trials of muggles who were accused of being witches: death by hanging. death by stoning, death by drowning, death by fire..The pain Ophelia felt seemed like an unruly combination of all those unpleasant ways to die.

Tom stepped towards the brunette on the ground, surround by white. "You make me sick...I trusted you!" Tom hissed as he noticed how shaky his hands and feet were. The handsome teen bent down on one knee right besides the Hufflepuff.

While Ophelia was always fair skinned, in her moment of weakness and pain her skin took on the complexion to that of a porcelain doll.

Tom wanted both break and embrace his porcelain doll as she laid there still and quiet. His pale and slender finger rushed to find a pulse on her neck. A small and short lived sense of comfort filled Tom's body to know she was indeed, still alive. Tom used his free arm to gingerly prop the unconscious beauty up; he kept her head securely against his chest.

"I hate you so much sometimes...Ophelia…" Tom said in doleful whisper. "But let's face it: you're mine." A chaste and inappropriately sweet kiss was given on Ophelia's lips before Tom focused on his next move.

Tom pressed the tip of his wand timidly on the center of Ophelia's forehead. " _Oblivate."_


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice.

I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter and this is a long one so it might have a bunch of errors. Let me know and I will fix it as soon as I can.

Again, I am moving in with a friend and so we won't have any internet for a while. I was able to get this chapter out before everything goes to hell because I hate, hate, HATE packing. I hope you guys like this chapter, hopefully it gives you more of a peace of mind since chapter 20. I also decided to flesh out William and Peter a little bit more and I wanted to hint at something between two certain characters.

I will update as soon as everything needed for my new living arrangement is done and over with! Sorry guys!

Thank you for reading this! Thank you to all those who favorite and follow this series! Please let me know what you think by leaving a review. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Also a big thank you to those who review! It lets me know that this story is being read and doing decently! Let me know what you think or let me know what you think will happen next. Anyways, enjoy! Again, a big thank you to those who leave me reviews! I adore you guys!

* * *

 _December 8, 1943_

Ophelia jolted up from bed without any warning. Her eyes shot open as her hands flew to the center of her chest; violent coughs shook her petite frame; her heart beat felt slower than usual and her mind groggy. She also felt cold and warm at the same time.

 _Why am I in the infirmary?_ Confusion and panic slowly seared its way into the teen's body as her coughing became worse. The pace of her heart quickened.

"H-h-h-help!" Ophelia stuttered between coughs. "Mad-mad-madame!" There was a coppery tang in Ophelia's mouth.

"Hold on!" A witch commanded as she rushed towards Ophelia. The nurse pulled the privacy curtain to a full open as an enchanted cart trailed behind her; the skilled healer poured a red liquid from a violet vial into a chalice. Without a second to spare, Madame Thatch bought the chalice to the Hufflepuff's lip and made sure the younger female drank every last drop.

The violent coughing stopped but the general discomfort Ophelia experienced in every square inch of her body lingered. Air easily passed through her lungs despite a particularly sharp pain in her chest.

Madame Thatch, Hogwart's nurse, was relieved that the girl was finally awake. "Darwin, nice to see you've decided to wake up. For a moment there I was worried you'd been hit with a sickly curse."

The brunette's head began to pound as she tried dig herself into the infirmary bed. "I don't feel great," Ophelia muttered in a rather lethargic tone. She brought a hand up to her head and began to massage her scalp, her thoughts seemed terribly scattered on top of having sheer pain course through it.

Madame Thatch looked at the teen as if she was a toddler but kept she tried to keep a matter of factly tone as she spoke. "You have a terrible bout of pneumonia-most people who have that don't feel great."

 _Pneumonia?_

"Pneumonia?" Ophelia questioned. "What? How did-?" She stopped for minute and replayed the words of Madame Thatch upon the initial start of their conversation. ... _Nice to see you've decided to wake up…_ The brunette groaned and began to wrap herself tightly with the infirmary blanket. In a tone that was a raspy whisper, Ophelia let a few words slip from her little mouth. "What in the actual bloody hell?"

The older witch sighed; the poor dear must have not remembered a thing. "You had a high fever and you contracted pneumonia since Sunday, Miss Darwin. Your friends had to bring you in."

 _Sunday….Sunday….Sunday…_.Ophelia kept her eyes closed as warmth started to surround her body slowly. She remembered Sunday morning: I _woke up, got dressed, and studied in the common room with Peter and William...Pipa brought Tom over….I was upset, I left._ Ophelia felt her body relax as sleep crept on her.

Did she remember how Sunday afternoon was spent? _I wanted to get away from Tom, so I went to Dumbledore's office and then I told him...I told him everything….After that, I sat in the Quidditch Pitch…_

Blank.

"You said my friends brought me in, Madame Thatch." Ophelia said as she tried to stifle back a yawn. "Was it Zolotov, Elwood, and Blaine?" _I probably passed out at the Quidditch Pitch and they had to come get me,_ Ophelia thought to herself. _That's probably how I got sick._

"The Slytherin prefect was with them too, Darwin." Thatch added in plain tone. "Riddle carried you over actually. Blaine was in hysterics about having to admit you into the infirmary. Zolotov had to do it since Elwood had to calm little blonde beauty."

"Riddle carried me in?" The brunette nearly threw the blanket off her body but failed too as her words started to have a drowsy drawl. _Or, Merlin...What if I was hit with a sickly curse!?_ The room around Ophelia was spinning slightly. "Why? Why was he carrying me?"

Madame Thatch started to wonder if the Hufflepuff in her care was always so curious about the most insignificant things. It could have very well been the teen's fever as well but either way, the nurse shrugged it off and humored the question. The teen was going to pass out soon. "He found you, apparently."

Their conversation stopped there. Sleep had gracefully captured the half-blooded witch. Madame Thatch smiled and she threw on another blanket over the sleeping witch before she went off to let Dumbledore know the child finally woke up.

Madame Thatch's smile faltered by a centimeter as she recalled another professor who wanted to be notified when Ophelia woke up. The nurse closed the privacy curtains around the passed out Hufflepuff; she decided that Madame Roseweed would be the last to know about Ophelia's being awake. Thatch didn't care-that witch wasn't going to 'purify' anything in the infirmary with 'sage'.

* * *

Tom Riddle had to swallow his irritation and anger as he found himself in the presence of the Transfiguration professor.

Albus Dumbledore was particularly wary of Tom the past few days. When the auburn haired wizard heard the a certain Hufflepuff was taken to the infirmary sometime Sunday, he hoped that Tom Riddle wasn't involved...However, given everything Ophelia Darwin had told Dumbledore-the possibility of Tom inflicting pain on the girl was high. High, yet without any solid proof.

Dumbledore kept his voice unperturbed as he acknowledged the boy. "So I've heard word that Miss Darwin is awake now."

A little skip beat went on in Tom's chest, but he made sure to not let his relief show on his face. "I appreciate you telling me that, Professor." Tom kept a polite tone and small smile on his face. "Though, I am sure Blaine and Elwood and Zolotov ought to be told of this before me. They're all so close."

"Be that as it may," Dumbledore went on. "I was told you were the one that found her."

"I did," Tom tried not to snap. "I found her, took her to her friends, and then to the infirmary. It would have been wrong of me to just leave Ophelia out in the cold."

Dumbledore decided to press on a bit more. "You don't think it odd that anyone would fall asleep at the cold Quidditch Pitch when there are warm beds in their dorm?"

"Miss Darwin is an odd one." Tom quickly replied. He couldn't think of a lie on the spot at the moment to push his statement further. All he could think of was Ophelia's body lying on the snow when he placed an Unforgivable curse on her. He tensed up. "If you'd like, Professor, I could notify Ophelia's friends for you."

The older wizard shook his head and began to walk away. "No need, I've already ask Edmund Campion to do that."

A flash of rage nearly overtook Tom's body. He tried his best not the glare at the professor as Dumbledore's figure retreated. It almost felt like Dumbledore purposely asked the Ravenclaw to do the task just to spite the Slytherin.

A scowl quickly grew on Tom's face, he was certain the meddlesome professor would do something like that on purpose.

Was he tense? Yes.

Tom Riddle had been tense since 'finding' Ophelia unconscious in the snow. It was like waking up from a bad dream only to find out there was no dream and it was all reality.

He never really practiced control around his-well-not his….Anyways, Tom never really practiced control around Ophelia. He never saw the point.

There was no need for his facade around her.

 _Stop it!_ Tom screamed in his head. _You've gone over this so many times in your head!_ With a shaky inhale and exhale, Tom stalked off to his next class. His thoughts were not too far behind.

 _You've never had to have facade put up with her but you're far from honest with her...Do you have it in you to tell her every crime you've done?...You killed your own father, you know. Ophelia would probably want to go deaf now before she'd ever want you to confess all your deeds to her...Do you even have it in you to tell her you're an heir to Slytherin?_

Tom sat down deathly quiet next Malfoy and Rosier in his next class, he blatantly ignored them as they greeted him.

An answer cracked in his head like a whip to the questions his mind thought up.

No-Tom didn't have it in him to be honest, not about those things. _It's better that way anyhow_ , Tom told himself as he pretended to be attentive to the current lecture.

Even if guilt lingered in whatever portion of his soul he had left, there was no regret there. Tom decided if he must, he'd use _'Obliviate'_ over and over on Ophelia if it meant keeping her close and keeping her blind to the truth.

 _She could be the witch that lived_ ….Tom thought with a cold grin.

* * *

Madame Thatch's loud voice caused Ophelia to wake up a second was a dull ache in her chest now instead of a sharp pain. The Hufflepuff didn't bother to sit up to see what was the matter instead she stayed huddled in bed with the blankets wrapped tightly around her body.

"Madame Thatch," An airy voice explained, "It is sage!"

 _Uh no,_ Ophelia inwardly groaned. _Roseweed._

"I know what sage smells like, Roseweed." Madame Thatch stated. "That is not how sage should smell like."

"Okay, so maybe this is a sage bundle filled with additional herbs but a little weed never killed anyone!" Roseweed deadpanned with a playful smile as she waved the unlit bundle in the air.

A small voice cracked from behind a privacy curtain, Ophelia didn't sound too much like herself but you could tell it was her. "I don't think smoke is good for me right now. You know, with the pneumonia and all."

Happiness beamed on Roseweed's face. "Ah! She's awake."

"Roseweed," Madame Thatch warned lowly. "You are more than welcome to visit with Darwin but I suggest you throw that away or you will not step another foot in my infirmary."

Ophelia heard something being tossed into a trash bin before the privacy curtain that blocked her off from the world was violent pushed open by Roseweed. The Hufflepuff wondered what did she ever do to gain the unfortunate attention of the Herbology teacher.

"So!" Roseweed began with a chipper smile and sassy tone. "I heard you went on a date with the ladies man I warned you about."

 _Do you not have friends your age you can talk to, Professor?_ Ophelia sighed, "Yes."

"Well!" Roseweed scolded, "Details, child! Tell me!"

"Professor Roseweed," Ophelia said as she looked around for a clock, "Shouldn't you be teaching right now?"

Suddenly, Roseweed tensed and remembered that she was late in teaching a bunch of fourth years. The ditsy witch didn't even mutter a 'goodbye' or a 'get well soon' as she took off for the Herbology classroom.

"Honestly," Ophelia muttered. _A whole future of witches and wizards are in the hands of hers to be taught Herbology._ She shook her head and stared up at the ceiling.

Ophelia wondered who else was going to pop up and visit her.

* * *

Margo was not happy. No, not by any means. She watched with a glare as Peter and William got along a bit too well with Edmund Campion. They poked jokes at each other and rambled on some more about Quidditch and we were considering making plans to meet over Winter break even.

She reminded the two Hufflepuffs about Campion's completely untraditional upbringing, but did they care?! No! Margo flipped her long and blonde hair over her shoulder and clutched a white vase of yellow tulips close to her chest.

"So, Blaine." A smooth voice asked gently, "Why yellow tulips?" Edmund hoped Margo's silence and chilly attitude towards him was because he didn't initiate a conversation with her. He was aware the Blaine females (specifically Margo, Margo's mother, and Margo's mother's mother) was not fond of him or his family...Not that he could do much about it.

"If you must know, Campion," Margo started with a huff, "Pipa loves yellow daffodils-they are her favorite, but since they're in short supply during winter I settled for yellow tulips."

"Oh." Yep, Edmund was certain the blonde girl hated him as much as her mother hated his.

"You'll have to excuse Margo's behavior," Peter said as he shot a side glare towards the Blaine heiress. "She's a bit tense when it comes to these things."

William rolled his and leaned in to whisper to the Ravenclaw. "That's code for: Margo is a bitch a lot of the times."

"I am sure Ophelia will love the tulips, Blaine." Edmund commented calmly. There was no spite in his voice as he addressed Margo.

Margo, however was intentionally spiteful as her next array of words rolled off her tongue. "Obviously, they're from me- _Pipa_ is going to love it."

" _ **Margo**_ ," Peter hissed into the blonde beauty's ear. " _Knock it off_."

Edmund leaned over to William. "Is it true they're affianced to each other?" A mixture of pity and sympathy for Peter swelled in Edmund's body. "Best of luck for Elwood, eh?"

William gave his answered in a hushed tone, "We only think they're about to be engaged to each other. Trust me, I've felt sorry for Peter Elwood the minute he turned five and Margo became a frequent playmate of ours."

The young group of wizards and a witch entered the infirmary, and quickly descended upon Ophelia. Madame Thatch only asked that their visit be calm and pleasant as to not stress the recovering Hufflepuff.

"Pipa!" William was the first to swoop Ophelia in for a hug, "Nice to see you back from the land of the dead! You don't look like complete shit, surprisingly."

Ophelia smiled and pulled away as their hug ended, "Ah, you always know how to make a girl feel special, don't you William?"

Peter was next to hug his friend. "Did you hear that, Campion? Looks like WIlliam is giving you a run for your money."

 _Campion? He's here?_ Ophelia's heart fluttered as her eyes soon locked in with Edmund's.

"Hey!" Ophelia croaked out. "Nice to see you again."

Edmund smiled and walked closer to the bed, "How are you-."

He never got to finish his sentence.

"Pipa!" Margo's shrill voice excitedly cut into the air and subsequently cut Campion off from finishing his statement. "Look! I got you these." Margo placed the tulips on the medium sized nightstand next the infirmary bed right before she took a seat on the bed close to Ophelia. "How are you feeling?"

Under normal circumstances, Ophelia wouldn't have minded but she found Margo's happy attitude with a large portion of rudeness towards Edmund infuriating. She casually ignored Margo and turned her attention back to the Ravenclaw. The witch with jaded green eyes smile soft at Edmund. "Sorry, Campion, what were you going say?"

 _Oh, shit._ William thought as he let an amused expression come over his face.

 _Oh, sweet Merlin, please no._ Peter groaned in his head.

Edmund shifted his eyes from Ophelia to Margo, but he decided to reply to Ophelia rather than stay quiet as Margo quietly killed him with her eyes. "I was going to ask how are you feeling?"

"I...asked you that...first…" Margo said quietly.

Ophelia ignored Margo. "I am feeling okay, not too great."

Peter shook his head at Ophelia. "Well you're sick, you're not supposed to feel great. Anyways, when are you allowed to leave the infirmary?"

"I haven't been told yet, Peter." The brunette replied, "Soon I guess-maybe."

"I have notes on the lectures you've missed for Transfiguration this week," Edmund added in. "You're welcomed to borrow them."

Ophelia smiled, "Thank you, I'd like-."

"No, thanks," Margo snapped at the Ravenclaw. "That is very sweet of you but I am sure Riddle already has notes to share with her." She turned her bright blue eyes over to her friend, "Right, Pipa?"

"Margo, you don't need to be a bitch to the man." William looked over to both Peter and Edmund. "Sorry." Peter got a 'sorry' because William knew Peter probably didn't want the girl he loved to be called a bitch (even if she was acting like it). Edmund got a 'sorry' because William knew damn well that the Ravenclaw didn't do jack shit to get on Margo's shit list.

Peter tensed when he felt Margo's eyes look over to him, he knew she was hoping he'd say something to Zolotov but Peter refused. Margo honestly was being foul to the poor Ravenclaw.

 _Why are you acting so terribly right now, Margo?!_ Ophelia looked at Margo, a visible frown was present on her face as well as a dirty look directed at the blonde witch. She turned her attention back to Edmund; it was easy to tell the boy was wildly uncomfortable with Margo's aggressiveness towards him.

"No." Ophelia shook her head. "I would very much like to use your notes, Campion. I-uh-I actually wouldn't mind making a study date out of it, if you're up for it?"

A coy smile broke out onto the handsome Ravenclaw's face. "Oh? Is that right or are you only saying that?"

Ophelia only shrugged at the Ravenclaw and gave him a toothy grin.

Peter decided to crack a joke to help in getting the tension farther out of the room, "Should we leave so you two can flirt shamelessly without our company? Because I'm more than happy to do that."

William let out a good hearted laugh, he couldn't think of anything else to add or say as a joke.

Margo's frown settled deeper into her facial features; okay, so Ophelia was angry with her. Still, she could still try one more thing to push Campion of her friend's mind and put a more suitable love interest in there instead. "A real gentleman wouldn't be a shameless flirt with a lady in the company of her friends while she is sick, Campion. I know you're a bastard, but at least try to act like an upper class one."

Everyone became stiff at the severe harshness of Margo's words.

William narrowed his eyes at Margo.

Edmund felt a familiar sting in his emotions.

Ophelia experienced a mixture of irritation and disgust towards Margo.

Peter was absolutely _**livid**_ about Margo's conduct. He understood Margo didn't like Edmund Campion but she was old enough and smart enough to not react on it. If he remembered correct, Margo was the one who was taught to act like a _**lady.**_ Instead, she decided to act like a spoiled child who had to share her favorite toy.

Margo smiled and beamed at Ophelia, "By the way, I think we should details about my engagement party coming up-."

"Margo, stop talking." Peter boomed out before anyone else could.

Confusion played on the pure-blooded witch's face. "No, I need to talk about-."

Peter cut her off as an angry scowl came to his face. "No! Margo, you're being an absolute bitch to Campion right now and you aren't even letting Ophelia properly communicate with him. We're leaving."

"No, Elwood," The handsome Ravenclaw interrupted, "I'll go. I know when I am not wanted-."

Margo scoffed, "Took you long enough."

"NO." Ophelia spoke up finally, "Stay, please. Campion, I'd like you to visit a bit longer." She snapped her gaze to Margo, "I agree with Peter, if you're not going to be nice to Campion I would prefer you to leave."

Margo's heart nearly broke into little pieces and tears threaten to pour down her face. The pretty witch stiffened her lower lip and tried to put on a brave face, "Fine...If that is what you want."

"It is." Ophelia stated smoothly, "I'll talk to you later when you're not acting like... _that._ "

Margo sighed as she stood up from the bed and walked towards Peter; he instantly grabbed Margo firmly by the hand and without a goodbye they exited the room.

William sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Pipa. I'm sorry, Campion. Both of you shouldn't have to deal with that."

"Thanks,William."Ophelia looked at where Peter once stood. "Good luck Peter and Margo...I'm sure they care and even love each other very much, but who knows if they can handle marriage to one another."

Edmund gave his input. "I think Elwood would do everything to make it work, but I don't see Blaine doing as much for him."

William agreed wholeheartedly. "I better go and play mediator for the two lovers. Feel better, Pipa." He smiled at the half-blooded witch before he turned his attention to the pure-blooded wizard. "I'll leave her in your care." William gave Edmund a wink (our and away from Ophelia's sight) before he disappeared.

Ophelia smiled at Edmund and gestured to the edge of her bed, "You can come closer, if you'd like."

Edmund didn't even hesitate and he brave sat right next to the witch instead of at the edge of the bed. "Is this fine?" He put a hand over hers.

The brunette replied, "Perfect, actually." Ophelia still felt terrible at how Margo treated him, another apology was about to be pulled out of her mouth but she was stopped.

"Margo told me you liked yellow daffodils," Edmund stated offhandedly as he used his free hand to grab two tulips from the white vase. While, yes, Margo was unpleasant to him the whole-Edmund didn't want to feel or be the reason Ophelia and the Blaine girl never spoke again. "In fact, I believe she told me they were your favorite."

 _She did?_

"Did she really?" Ophelia asked carefully as she watched Edmund held the tulips out in front of her.

Edmund nodded. He removed his hand away from Ophelia's to draw out his wand from the pocket of his robe. "Let me show you something." With ease, a precise flick of his wand and a few French sounding words, Edmund turned the two yellow tulips into two yellow daffodils. "Deux jolies fleurs pour une belle dame." ("Two pretty flowers for one beautiful lady.")

Ophelia blushed, "I don't speak French, Campion but thank you." She reached out to take the daffodils from him, but instead their fingers ended up being intertwined with one another.

Without even thinking, Edmund leaned in closer to Ophelia's face. The teen automatically closed her eyes and found herself leaning in closer to Edmund. She felt a hand inch up her arm but stopped at her elbow. The wonderful scent of cinnamon graced Edmund's senses.

Their lips were mere centimeters away.

"CAMPION! DARWIN!" Madame Thatch scolded, "There will be none of **that** in my infirmary!"

They immediately pulled away from each other; the two daffodils laid somewhere on the surface of the bed.

"I should go."Edmund quickly shot up from his spot next to the girl he almost kissed. "I am sure there is a Slug Club meeting or something."

"Right." Ophelia forced herself to look at Madame Thatch, "I probably have to take some medicine around this time, huh?"

Madame Thatch rolled her eyes and went to fetch a particular violet vial, though only after she made sure the Ravenclaw was gone from the Hufflepuff's company.

Sleep once again captured the Hufflepuff. A small smile on her face as she fell asleep.

* * *

Ophelia was asleep clear until the oddest hours of the night, she felt an unusual pressure on her chest. She opened her eyes and nearly flinched away from who hovered above her.

Nearly flinched-she wasn't too sure how he'd react if she did.

"Ophelia." Tom greeted with a velvety monotone. He lowered his lips down to the girl's forehead and placed a kiss there. His hand still stayed on the center of her chest.

Ophelia's body went frigid upon hearing his voice; a small jolt of fear ran through her. She did she best to dismiss it. "Tom."

"You sound like a toad," Tom commented as he suddenly removed his hand off of the girl's chest, he soon placed a bouquet of purple hyacinths on top of Ophelia. "Here." Tom's velvety tone took on a more brash volume.

Ophelia didn't feel the need to thank the handsome, dark haired teen.

Tom decided to carry on a conversation. "Do you know what purple hyacinths stand for?" He went ahead and laid down next to Ophelia; he noticed how she tensed slightly against him. Tom draped a possessive arm over her shoulders and pulled Ophelia in closer to him.

"N-no." Ophelia said as a small cough raked through her body. "I can't say I do." The brunette was happy at the sight of Tom giving her flowers, but she didn't quite understand why under her general happiness at the sight of the purple flowers-she also felt immense sadness and pain. Another set of coughs shook through her.

"Shame." Tom scoffed as carefully rubbed Ophelia's back. "I guess you never will then."

"I am not in healthy form to play your mind games, Tom." Ophelia cleared her throat and looked away from the Slytherin.

The brown eyed boy only let a cold smirk play on his face but didn't comment on Ophelia's statement. "I should leave." He pulled away in an instant from the brunette, though not before he commented on the two daffodils placed in a careful line next to each other. "The vase of tulips are in good taste, those daffodils are incredibly tacky though." The heir of Slytherin scooped up the two daffodils and crumpled them before he tossed them in a bin.

Tom then grabbed the hyacinths from Ophelia and placed them carefully on the night stand where the daffodils once were.

"Tom!" Ophelia's voice was weak and nearly muted, which made it all the easier for him to ignore the hurt in her voice.

"Goodnight, Ophelia." Tom wrapped his cold hands around the brunette's neck and drew her face closer to his. Much like the day he used the ' _Cruciatus'_ curse on her, he placed an unbelievable sweet kiss on her lips. "Feel better."

Ophelia pulled out of Tom's grasp, she made no comment as the Slytherin walked away from her.

* * *

 **BONUS DETAILS:**

Yellow tulips stand for cheerful thoughts and sunshine.

Yellow daffodils stand for Spring but it can also stand for new beginnings.

Purple hyacinths stand for forgiveness or state something along the lines of 'Please forgive me'.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice.

Hey everyone! I know it took me awhile to update but hopefully this chapter more or less makes up for it? Yes, no, maybe? I also don't have a beta-reader so if there are any errors please let me know so I can fix any mistakes.

I am still working on unpacking and getting settled in and due to the holiday seasons, family festivities, and a new work schedule-I will still be trying to find a routine that will allow me to update on this series regularly.

To those readers who favorite, message, or even review please keep them coming. Those little things let me know people are reading this series and want me to continue on with it-especially reviews (hint,hint) Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

December 11, 1943

Ophelia was once told by her Poppa to hold her breath whenever she felt something viscous coming her way…Ophelia was five when Gregory Darwin advised that she hold her breath to keep the monsters from finding her. Poppa had even said to hold your breath if you never wanted to be called in class-he swore it worked like a charm.

She wasn't five anymore, she couldn't hold her breath until everything bad went away. Instead, she stood eerily still as Tom Riddle and his gang of friends brushed past her. Even then they weren't even passing by Ophelia directly. Tom Riddle and his gang passed by a sturdy pillar Ophelia was using to hide behind so she could stand eerily still.

The Hufflepuff tried to shake off the dread and sense of newfound anxiety associated with the Slytherin prefect. Since Tom's unexpected visit while she was in the infirmary, Ophelia could not ease her nerves or emotions around him. It was all a confused mixture-happy to see Tom care for her but at the same time she wanted to scream bloody murder at the sight of him.

Ophelia's hatred for the Forbidden Forest grew tenfold than what it originally was. Not to mention, Ophelia's anger and annoyance at Margo kept eating away at the half-blooded witch. _Memo received: Margo hates Edmund, adores Tom. Great, okay, I got it!_

There was also the fact that Dumbledore was gone! Gone! Ophelia pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to count to ten to calm herself down. The Hufflepuff wasn't even sure if she did tell Dumbledore what she knew about Tom _. Why would Dumbledore even take off so close to exams and finals and such?_

Ophelia's sanity hung by a few threads. Very thin, cheaply made threads but threads all the same.

"Ophelia?"

Oh...there was also another thing.

A nervous and almost forced grin came to Ophelia's lips, "Hello, Edmund."

"Erm," Edmund cleared his throat as he pointed at Ophelia's feet (or at least where they should have been.) "Aren't you cold, you're standing in about two feet of snow."

"I was," Ophelia thought up a little lie. "Well, I was planning to jump out and startle you but I ended up daydreaming instead."

"Tsk." Edmund held out a hand for Ophelia to take so he could help her step out of the little hill of snow. "Don't daydream too much, I know I might be the funnest tutor there is but daydreaming will not help you by any means."

 _Say something coy and clever!_

Ophelia offered a little grin to the Ravenclaw as she took his hand and leapt out of the snow. Her hold on the pure-blood stayed; for a brief moment she enjoyed the feel of his hands against hers. "Edmund, you might not be the funnest tutor but you could possibly be the handsomest tutor."

"Careful, a silver tongue like that and you might start sounding more like me."

Ophelia tensed up at the unwanted voice that butted into her and Edmund's conversation. Immediately, Ophelia let go of Edmund's hand.

"Riddle." Edmund acknowledge the Slytherin prefect.

"Campion." The tall and handsome teen acknowledged the Ravenclaw.

Ophelia looked blankly at Tom, she took note of how his little gang members were off a few yards away from them. "Your friends are waiting on you."

"They can wait." Tom flashed one of his best smiles at the Hufflepuff. "I haven't seen you since I helped admit you into the infirmary. I want to see how you're doing, Ophelia."

"Riddle helped to admit you?" Edmund Campion didn't know about that, he naturally assumed that either Elwood or Zolotov helped.

"I was out of it when it happened, Edmund." Ophelia more or else had to explain to the Ravenclaw. "Anyways," She turned her attention to Tom, "As you can see, Tom, I am fine."

"Really? Your voice still sounds awful." Tom quipped at her. "Almost like you swallowed a frog." The sight of Campion and Ophelia made Tom's stomach knot into violent little tangles as he crossed his hands behind his back and did his best to keep up with his public image. "Doesn't her voice sound awful, Campion?"

"No, not really." Edmund didn't like how Tom was looking at the Hufflepuff. Carefully, the young French man wedge himself between the Slytherin and Hufflepuff. "I hate to be rude, Riddle, really. However, I have been assigned by multiple professors to help get Miss Darwin caught back up with studies before finals."

A small grimace unnoticeable to most humans flashed onto Tom's face. "Eager to study with a frog, Campion?" Tom didn't like how casually Edmund disagreed with him. Tom's browns eyes darted over to Ophelia-he was certain she was the only one who picked up his true tone of maliciousness.

The Ravenclaw student quickly came up with reply as sharp as a whip (a normal trait of Ravenclaws, really.) "Kiss the frog and you get a princess." Edmund let a calm smirk come over his face, " Though, Ophelia is quite possibly better than a princess."

A subtle blush managed its way to Ophelia's face. _That might have been the most sincere and complementary thing anyone has ever said to me._

 _This skinny stick? Better than a princess?_ Tom kept his rude thoughts to himself perfectly. _She's barely better than a mud-blood. BARELY._ He supposed he kept his opinion to himself due to the fact Edmund Campion might be a pure-blood he'd later what to recruit. MIGHT, was a strained key word.

Ophelia saw the slow build to Tom's anger, should the two males continue to exchange quick jabs and rude remarks, that slow build to anger would erupt like a violent volcano. The Hufflepuff, laced her hand gently around Edmund's wrist.

"It's been nice, Tom. Now," Ophelia stopped for dramatic affect, "Edmund and I must get going."

"Riddle." Edmund nodded at the Slytherin as he began to lead Ophelia to the library.

"Campion." Tom stated evenly. His dark eyes lingered on Ophelia before she allowed herself to follow Edmund's lead. A possessive was there as he looked at the mousy brunette. "Ophelia, I'll leave you in his care for now."

As smart as Edmund was, he would never picked up on the small and toxic way Tom phrased his sentence.

 _For now.._.Ophelia thought as she tried to focus as Edmund explained what she missed in Arithmancy. _For now, meaning...meaning Tom wasn't done being..._ Ophelia furrowed her eyebrows together. _Done being what?_

Deep in the pit of the Hufflepuff's soul, she felt like there was something completely blanked out of her mind. Maybe Tom said something to her at one point that explained his growing foulness...But really, it's not as if she could remember.

"Do you follow?" Edmund's voice cut through Ophelia; he took the startled look on her face as one for confusion.

He wasn't aware that Ophelia had been preoccupied with other thoughts in her mind. Edmund Campion was no Tom Riddle. Yes, he was a smart and gifted wizard, but Campion lacked the ability Riddle had to so easily read Ophelia's mind.

"Sorry," Ophelia shook her head, "Um, this is a lot to process in one sitting." Her hands combed through her mousy brown locks. She wasn't paying attention at all to anything Campion said. "Can I, I think I just need a minute. If that is alright, Edmund?"

The Ravenclaw watched as Ophelia's neck stretched and rolled back, her once short locks dropped like heavy silk over her shoulders. Admittedly, Edmund fancied Ophelia better with long hair as opposed to when her hair was short. Without much thought, the blonde haired male reached out and tugged at a strand of the Hufflepuff's hair.

Ophelia let out a half-smile as she looked over to face Edmund properly. "Hmm?"

Then Edmund did something most Ravenclaws didn't do-he acted without thinking first. One hand stayed on that particular strand of hair but the other hand found its way to Ophelia's chin. Carefully, he leaned his face closer to hers. No thoughts came to Edmund's mind as he pressed his lips against Ophelia's.

As he pulled away, a satisfied feeling washed over Edmund.

Ophelia felt something similar but odd at the same time; the only word she could used to describe the sensation was: safe.

"So," Ophelia said with her best version of a charming and flirty smile. "Does that mean break time is over?"

"Yes!" Edmund chuckled as he pulled away and began to re-explain Arithmancy. "You have finals we have to prepare you for."

"Alright." Ophelia let a light hearted sigh out of her mouth. She could push Tom out of her mind for a couple of hours? Couldn't she?

* * *

On the other side of Hogwarts, Margo sat on the edge of Peter Elwood's bed as her legs dangled off with her arms crossed defensively on her chest. Peter, who had surrendered his bed to the last minute visitor, found himself lying down on William's bed.

A small part of Peter was happy William was an early bird-the Zolotov male probably wouldn't be back until sometime after noon. Peter stared up into the ceiling as Margo complained and mope and whined and bitched and moaned about something near and dear to her heart.

"Is it so bad, I think Campion is a piece of filth and Pipa can do much better!?" Margo went on, "I mean, okay _maybe_ personality wise they get along fine but looks?!"

Peter sighed and shifted around in William's bed. He wondered if he'd die listening to Margo's complaints. "What about looks?"

"Pipa has that classic London look! Campion just looks like a cheap French aristocrat! Their kids-if they ever had any-would be so confusing to look at!"

Peter shook his head, "No, they would not be and that was rather out of line."

Margo ignored Peter's statement. "My mum told me that Edmund Campion is still getting his inheritance money." She flipped her long and platinum blonde hair towards her shoulder and began to braid it. "He doesn't even carry the same last name as…" Margo's voice broke.

Peter turned his head to look at the pretty witch who was on the verge of tears as she braided her hair. He repeated after her, "He doesn't carry the same last name as who?" He already knew the truth, Margo did too.

Margo choked back her tears, "It's not fair!"

"Margo-you think everything that slights you in any way isn't fair." Peter mumbled.

"I am good bloody person!" Margo's voice shook as she sucked a breath in. "This must have been how my mother felt when…" She stopped braiding her hair to bury her face into her hands.

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose before he got up to sit by the Blaine heiress. "Margo."

Rushed sobs escaped from the pure-blooded witch's lips.

Peter called her name out again. " _ **Margo."**_

"Peter!" The blonde screamed, " _ **What**_?!" She wiped the heavy tears off her face with her hands and threw them onto her lap.

"What your mother went through and what you are going through are two completely different instances." Peter went on, "Campion isn't stealing Pipa from you, yet at the same time, Pipa isn't a porcelain doll for you to possess and control."

The blonde said nothing, a frown was the only thing she expressed.

"Maybe," Peter said carefully, "You should tell Pipa the truth?"

A scoff escaped the teen's lips. "What, and bring more shame to _my_ family name?" Margo's lips quivered as another set of sobs tried to rake through her body. "No thanks."

The Elwood heir sighed and cupped the Blaine female's face. He pinched her cheeks gently before pressing his forehead against hers. "You know very well Pipa doesn't give a damn about that kind of stuff."

Margo sighed, but said nothing.

"Tell the truth, Margo." Peter said as he placed a small kiss on Margo's cheek, "Give your friend that, the truth."

* * *

Ophelia had a something of an uncertain feeling in her gut as she wandered away from the library; her fingers traced the outlines of a stack of flashcards on Potions. Edmund was kind enough to let her take his.

The Hufflepuff found herself out front Dumbledore's office door; it felt empty just from how it looked on the outside. She tucked the flashcards into her winter coat and knocked on the door.

No answer.

She knocked again, "Professor Dumbledore?" Another set of knocks, "Professor, if you are there please answer me."

No answer.

Ophelia sighed and tried on last time, she balled her hands into a tight fist and began to hit the door with all her might.

Still no answer.

"I'm losing it," The Hufflepuff whispered into the door. She sighed again before pulling herself away from the door. There was still that blank in her memory that bothered her and Ophelia's intuition kept linking back to Dumbledore's office.

Another alternative popped into her mind to try and fill the white slate in her memory. Ophelia tapped her foot on the ground repeatedly until she came up with the final answer to the question she posed in her head.

 _Okay...fine...Yes._

She began to make her way to the dungeons, and as soon as she found the particular room she needed, a chorus of knocks echoed through.

The door swung open for Ophelia.

Coal black hair, brown eyes, pale, and tall-but overall, eerily handsome.

"Tom."

"Ophelia."

The heir of Slytherin allowed the Hufflepuff into his room, the door closed swiftly as soon as she entered.

Ophelia kept her nerves under control and breathing steady as she found herself already falling into familiar habits when she was in the prefect's room. She sat at the edge of the bed as Tom settled himself on the chair by his desk.

Something in her gut made Ophelia feel both uncomfortable and hurt at the sight of Tom.

"Well?" Tom scoffed at the witch in front of him. "Are you going to sit there and waste my time or did you have something you needed from me?" Tom's brown eyes scanned quickly over the teen and for a moment they lingered on her legs.

"I have a question," Ophelia stated as she shifted in her spot and stuck her hands into her coat pocket. The flashcards bumped against her fingers, so Ophelia took them out of her pocket and began to fiddle with them as if they were playing cards.

Tom looked at her with a blank stare, "So? What makes you think I have an answer?" A little flare of jealousy flashed in what was left of his soul when he spotted the cards in her hands. _Campion's, I bet._ A look of disdain painted his face, "Why don't you ask Campion your stupid question. I am sure he'd be more than happy to entertain your dull mind."

She ignored Tom's comment as agitation bubbled in her body. "How did you find me?"

Tom arched an eyebrow at her, he knew exactly what Ophelia meant but there was no way she could remember what he did to her _….No, I executed 'Obliviate' perfectly so Ophelia must mean something else._ The handsome young man decided to play dumb. "You came to my room, filth. I didn't find you."

Ophelia began to move her fingers through the stack of flashcards faster, pretending to cut and split them up as if she was playing poker. It helped Ophelia keep her growing anxiety with Tom at bay. "No." She shook her head and stopped messing with the stack in her hands. "How did you find me the other week? In the snow?"

Tom narrowed his eyes at the girl. He was lucky Ophelia didn't always pick up when he was reading her thoughts. Tom saw the white blank that was left in her memory, he tensed up slightly. "Prefect duty, Ophelia." Tom easily lied to her face. "I thought I heard a commotion over at the Quidditch Pitch and went to go investigate. I found you asleep instead."

"On the snow?" Ophelia didn't understand quite understand that. "I was asleep in the Quidditch Pitch...on the snow?"

 _That doesn't seem...right?_ Ophelia stood up from Tom's bed and headed to the door. "I need to go." Something wasn't adding up and it was starting to scare her.

Tom quickly stopped the Hufflepuff from leaving by beating her to the door; his back easily pressed up against the door and he placed his hand firmly over the door knob. "So soon?" Tom reached out with his free hand and ran his long fingers through Ophelia's brown hair. "Why not stay?"

Tom could almost feel her heart pounding against her chest, the only thing he could feel for sure was her growing fear for him. It was beautiful to Tom. He leaned his face closer to the Hufflepuff, their lips so close to each other. _It had been awhile_ , Tom thought as that familiar scent of slight cinnamon pulled him in.

In the Slytherin's mind, a series of images associated with Ophelia being close and intimate flashed in his mind as if it was a storm. What he remembered the most, what image occupied his mind often: Ophelia Darwin, still and unconscious in perfect and untouched snow...He found her perfect and untouched by any one else but him.

"I can't kiss you." Ophelia spat out as she stepped back from the impending kiss. "Edmund won't like me to do that." Her dull green eyes widened at what she had just said. _Why did you say that out loud? Why?_

A cruel chuckle escaped Tom's lips. "Why do you give a damn about what Campion won't like you to do? Much less, what makes you think I give a damn about what Campion's likes?" Then it hit Tom. "You like that French bastard?"

"He likes me back." Ophelia retorted, refusing to look at Tom.

"I very much doubt that he does."

"He is very gentle with me and he is nice."

Tom felt anger swirl through his body. (Or maybe it was denial which made a swirl tear through him?) "I supposed he had to be." Tom insulted the Hufflepuff easily without missing a second. "You're possibly the dumbest sixth year in Hogwarts- of course he is gentle and nice towards you. How else is Campion meant to teach a slow cow such as you?" Tom's tone was bitter, angry, and there was the dangerous tone of jealousy in his voice.

Ophelia stood in Tom's room, quiet and still just like when she hid behind a pillar. She could _feel_ the negativity that was Tom and his whole being. That specific brand of negativity reverberated across the room in the same way heat would flow from a fireplace.

Tom could also feel the emotion that boomed through Ophelia. He found though, there was no fear in the Hufflepuff at this point-only hurt. That specific brand of hurt crackled to the Slytherin in the same way thunder would crack in a storm.

The pained look on the brunette's face began to hurt him, which only made the handsome young man irate as the brunette stood in his presence. "Get out." Tom hissed at Ophelia.

Ophelia stood still. She was unsure if this was one of Tom's cruel little tests, the one in which Tom would tell her to do something then blow up at her even worse if she did listen.

"Are you deaf on top of stupid now?" Tom's mind began to see images of Ophelia wrapped up in Campion's arms; he imaged the two of them walking through the halls together; he imagined them in the library, the Grand Hall, in the Ravenclaw common rooms...Tom imaged Campion placing lips on something Tom _knew_ was his!

"GET OUT!" Tom yelled at Ophelia as he violently swung his door opened. "GET OUT!" A voice in the back of Tom's head told him to curse Ophelia down to the ground repeatedly if she wouldn't listen. He was tempted...but at the moment, Tom didn't have it in him to do it. "Get out…" His voice was quiet but it sounded like venom to the ears. "Or I will _make_ you get out."

Ophelia's heart was in her throat by this point. Fear and hurt had nearly rendered her immovable-but survival mode kicked in. The need and urgency to get the hell away from Tom powered through fear and hurt.

Slowly, the brunette picked up one foot after the other until she was out of the Slytherin's room. _Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot._ Ophelia repeated that in her head as if that was a spell she needed to think for her legs to work. The Hufflepuff chanted it all the way back to her room and pretended that everything was perfectly fine and normal.

Tom did the same, only within the means of his own specific routine. The Slytherin also pretended that everything was perfect and normal. He knew eventually, his bitterness would fade and Ophelia and him would go back to their usual dynamic.

Tom was sure of it...and in the off even that things didn't go the way he planned, Tom was sure he could fix it.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice.

I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible. I still am bouncing around and trying to adjust to my new routine and I still unpacking and getting things sorted, so again, I do not know when I can find a regular time to update on a fixed day or date.

Hopefully, you guys enjoy the chapter. I want to say thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. It shows me that people are interested in Ophelia's life and it lets me know I should continue her story. So thank you and please leave some reviews to let me know what you think!

* * *

December 12, 1943

Edmund was surprised to say the least, he was glad though that the meeting place was outside. The cold winter air was calming him, along with the joint he had in between his lips as he waited a couple feet away from the Whomping Willow.

The Ravenclaw student heard light and dainty footsteps come in closer and closer, until the cause of the footsteps stood directly by him.

Margaret Blaine let out a stiff and steady greeting to acknowledge the bane of her existence. "Hello, Campion."

"Blaine."

Silence between them settled. Edmund took a long drag from the rolled up joint as he stared out towards the horizon; Margo kicked her feet in the snow as she stood begrudgingly by him.

If anyone ( _Ophelia_ -especially) ever took the chance to compare the two pure-bloods, the physical similarities between them was glaringly obvious.

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were blondes. Granted, Edmund was a honey blonde while Margo was a platinum blonde-there was a reason why they were both blondes and it didn't come from their mothers.

Vanessa Gought-Blaine (Margo's mother) had hair which had strong and deep hues cherry red in it.

Adelina Campion (Edmund's mother) had hair that was a subtle and light chestnut brown.

Even though Margo had deep blue eyes and Edmund had gray eyes-they both had the same eye shape.

Both pure-blood teens had slender Grecian looking noses.

Both had downward turned lips and therefore Edmund and Margo shared the same smile.

Both even had the same long chin with a square jaw.

Both even had the same father: Edward Marion Blaine. Hell in a way the half-siblings were named after their father: Edward to Edmund and Marion to Margaret.

Edmund didn't like to think too much about it while Margo let it bother her too much.

"Put that out," Margo said as she referred to the joint her half-brother smoked. "You smell like Dad before he sets out for Gringotts."

"I wouldn't know." Edmund took a final drag before flicking the roach into the snow. He wasn't sure why but even though he was eight months older than Margo-he listened to her. _Maybe because you want to get with your half-sister's best friend._ It was both weird and pleasant to finally refer to Margo as his half-sibling...Weird mainly.

He blew the smoke out into the cold air. "So, Blaine, what made you want to meet with me today? Let me guess-more insults?"

 _Be the person Peter thinks you can be….Be the person Peter thinks you can be._ Margo took in a deep breath. "I am willing to put our nasty behavior towards each other-."

"Our nasty behavior towards _each other_?" Edmund had to chuckle at that "Who did you get your sense of humor from? Dad or your mum?" The Ravenclaw never really hung out with the other human who helped to create him.

Edmund didn't know if that man had jokes to tell.

For whatever reason, when there were other people in the room Margo was spontaneously meaner to her half-brother. When Margo was alone with Edmund, she got along better with him. The platinum blonde rolled her eyes and let out an angry huff. " _Fine._ I am willing to get over my nasty behavior towards you."

"Hm." Edmund arched an eyebrow at looked at the platinum blonde. "Why?" _There's a catch...I know it._

"Out of the goodness of my saintly heart, that's why." Margo said perfectly chipper as if it was the most obvious thing.

" _ **Satan**_ -ly heart?" Edmund teased, "You said ' _ **satan**_ -ly heart' right, because that is what I heard."

"Fine!" Margo huffed and kicked at the snow on the ground. "I want Pipa to not hate me anymore!"

Edmund blinked at his half-sister, He didn't follow as how or why that linked to Margo wanting to talk to him. "Okay?"

"Okay so you tell Pipa that I apologized to you and we can put all the mean things I've said behind us." Margo held her breath. "Please, Camp-I mean, Edmund."

 _There, there was the catch._ Edmund scratched his chin, he picked up on something. "You know, technically, I didn't hear you apologize so why should I tell Ophelia that?"

Without any attitude or huffs, Margo threw a portion of her pride away. "She's my best friend-sometimes I feel like Pipa is my only real friend...Peter and William don't count because, well, pure-blood society and business ties and you know how that goes." A sense of shame crashed on Margo. "I was mean to you because I thought you'd-well not you per say-but I thought you'd steal my best friend the way Dad was able to stolen by...pretty, young, vibrant things to say it nicely."

Silence settled in again.

Edmund was thinking Margo's words over in his head; relief fluttered to his heart to know Margo hadn't insulted his mum. It was nice.

Margo mistook the silence as her half-brother's way of rejecting her efforts. "I also wanted the best for Pipa because I want her to so very badly be apart of the pure-blood community that way her and I could still be close after Hogwarts." She sighed, "But that is no excuse for me to have treated you like I did. I really am terribly, sorry."

Edmund smiled and gently pushed Margo's arm. "Apology accepted, brat."

"Now, that brings me to my next order of business." Margo's tone went from sincere to stern in a heartbeat. "Holiday break is coming." Margo's blue eyes bore into gray eyes, and anyone could tell she meant business. "You're coming to my engagement party."

Edmund Campion, a well adjusted young man, who did have his thoughts in order, felt a strong sense of dread wash over him. He almost wanted to cry-Edmund knew there was no way in hell that Vanessa Blaine would allow him on their manor.

"Dad has spoken to both our mothers, it's been settled as of this morning. You are coming to my engagement party. Adelina, your mum, she is even invited too."

Edmund really wanted cry. "Merlin, no."

Margo went on. "I think your mum is actually designing my dress and your suit for the party."

Edmund _**did**_ almost cry. "Fuck my life."

* * *

Professor Slughorn was faced with a slight dilemma Slughorn felt silly, how could he forget that he had administer a test for a student who'd fallen terribly ill the past week. The worst part was Slughorn had also planned to meet with an old schoolmate from his own times in Hogwarts; both were respected professionals in potions it just so happened.

All dilemmas could be solved, but Slughorn only trusted one student with to solve this particular dilemma.

"Tom, my good lad." Slughorn opened the doors of the potions room and allowed himself and the prefect in. "I cannot thank you enough for doing this on such short notice."

"I am honored to help, Professor." While it wasn't lie, Tom would have rathered digging further into other possible descendants of the founders of Hogwarts. As far as Tom knew there was only one other direct descendant besides him but that was all he knew at the moment. _I suppose I could use this as an advantage to look around and find the material to be covered on the last test before winter holiday._

Slughorn probably didn't lock up the drawer of his desk where the tests and answers were kept, not when the oh-so-trusted Slytherin prefect was around.

"There are two portions of this test," Slughorn explained. "One portion is to report on the specified ingredients, method, and uses when concerning the Draught of Living Death. Second portion of the test is to match the proper description to the correct potion."

Tom nodded along attentively. "Should I time the student?"

Slughorn shook his head, "No, Miss Darwin has no time limit. We want her to take her time, do her best, and pass."

"Of course, Professor Slughorn." Tom agreed as he fought the urge to roll his eyes at the kind man.

"Thank you again so much, Tom." Slughorn thanked once again as he headed out and away for Hogsmeade. "I knew I could trust on you!"

Tom smiled his most deceitful smile, "Of course, Professor! Have fun on your day out and about." The heir of Slytherin almost thought for a brief second he was a trustworthy student-Tom had to chuckle to himself. _I almost had myself fooled as well._

It took nearly fifteen minutes before a female with mousy brown hair walked through the doors of the potions class. Ophelia froze in a second when she saw Tom sitting at Slughorn's desk.

"Um," Ophelia looked around the classroom, "I'm supposed to be taking a test." She then added, "Where is Professor Slughorn?"

" He is out." Tom answered curtly as he put two pieces of parchment paper on top of the nearest desk across from him. "I'll be monitoring you for the moment."

Ophelia ran her fingers through her hair and let out a grunt of frustration; she said nothing else as she made her way towards the desk. The Hufflepuff sat down, grabbed her inkwell and quill out of the pocket of her robe and positioned it neatly at the corner of the desk. She then picked up the two pieces parchment papers and examined the course material in front of her.

Tom saw a smile come to the girl's face; it meant she knew the material. _No, it meant Campion knew the material on his stupid flashcards he let her borrow._ It irked Tom. "Your test is timed by the way, you have fifty minutes exactly."

Ophelia's smile dropped and a frown was very prominent on her face. "Slughorn told me beforehand that I wouldn't be-."

"Forty-five minutes is all you have now." Tom snickered as he opened one of the spare drawers of Slughorn's desk. He found a copy of the final test. "If you keep talking, Ophelia, I'll knock down another five minutes from your time."

Ophelia kept her mouth shut and began on the test. _At least I know the material._

Tom read over the prepared test questions for the potions final, he made a mental note of all the topics to cover.

Ophelia focused on her actual test, the quill in her hand etching away into the paper.

At least thirty minutes had gone by of the two teens ignoring each other in stiff, cold silence.

To the Slytherin heir ears the etching sounds grew louder and louder, until it was too hard for him to ignore. He drew out his want and pointed it at the unaware Hufflepuff. " _Accio_."

Immediately the tests flew out from under Ophelia's quill and straight to Tom.

"Hey!" The Hufflepuff shot up from her chair but did not move closer to the young man. "I wasn't done." Now it was her turn to grab her wand. " _Accio_!" The tests flew back to her, right back on top of her desk.

Tom pointed his wand in Ophelia's direction, a spell came to form in his mind but it didn't have the time to slip through his lips.

A cold sensation of fear overtook Ophelia. The Hufflepuff didn't know what spell would come out of the Slytherin's mouth but to be fair, she wasn't even aware of the spell that flew out of her mouth at the speed of light.

Ophelia casted a switching spell with her wand, but not like the one when she was a fourth year student. No, any witch and wizard would agree that Ophelia casted more intermediate switching spell.

In a blink, Tom's body was thrown over and towards the desk Ophelia had once been standing behind. Ophelia was now standing behind Slughorn's desk, with her eyes shut tight.

Both felt incredibly dizzy and unsteady, though the Slytherin prefect was the first one to regain his sense of balance.

"Test time is over for you , Ophelia-dear." Tom hissed as he snatched the test papers of the desk the Hufflepuff was once at. He felt half-way tempted to crumple the test Ophelia worked on. Instead he snatched the test up and read through it with a critical glare.

A mixture of surprise, confusion, and irritation hit Tom all at once. He took his glare off the paper and threw it to the Hufflepuff. "You've answered and completed everything that's been asked of you in the test."

"Well, yes," Ophelia started. "I wanted to go over it before I turned it in."

At first Tom was confused because he figured if someone was going to throw a fit over a test and throw a few spells over it-it usually meant that they weren't done... _Ophelia was done._ Secondly came surprised, only because Tom was shocked to see how well Ophelia had done... _She got everything right._ Lastly was irritation because hell, it is common sense to turn your bloody test in as soon as you are done!...Or maybe it was because Ophelia succeeded thanks to the help of another male.

Then a little spark of a cruel idea flicked in Tom's head...Sure, Edmund helped her pass this time but Tom figured if he could get Ophelia to associate passing with pleasure-Edmund would be merely used as a tool.

 _A learning tool._ Carefully Tom walked towards Ophelia, he slammed her test hard on the surface of Slughorn's desk.

Ophelia watched Tom intensely, he had no glare or aggressive expressions on his face. He was just blank...but sometimes 'just blank' didn't automatically mean Tom wouldn't pull something at the last minute. Tom moved in closer to Ophelia, to where he was now right behind her.

"You did well." Tom swept away the strands of brown hair that covered Ophelia's neck. "You did _very_ well." His lips placed a peck on her neck.

Ophelia tried to shrug the young man off of her. "Edmund was _very_ helpful." She threw that back at his face out of the small hope that Tom would hear the Ravenclaw's name, get mad, and yell at her to leave his sight just light yesterday.

It didn't help.

Tom bit down on Ophelia's neck with the proper amount of force to make the bite pleasurable. "Sure, he is." Tom placed a series and kisses and bites on the exposed nape of her neck. "But he isn't the one rewarding you for passing, is he?"

Ophelia tried once more to shake Tom off her back; the time more forcefully. The back of her head was tucked under Tom's jaw, Ophelia kept throwing her head back against him. "I need to go back to my common room. I promised William I would help him with something." Which was true, William did need help with something. He just never told Ophelia what the 'something' was.

Tom knew Ophelia wasn't lying, but he ignored her. The Slytherin heir stopped kissing and biting along her neck and bit Ophelia. Tom bit her _**hard**_ on the top of her left shoulder.

Tears flooded dull green eyes; pain and anger was all Ophelia could sensibly comprehend. There was anxiety and fear lurking in with those emotions as well but she didn't know why she started to associate Tom with that.

"Tom!" Ophelia yelled and even with his teeth still clamped firmly on her, she sucked a deep breath in before painfully yanking away from him.

He glared at the Hufflepuff, "If you had stayed still it wouldn't have hurt." No, it was a lie. Tom meant to hurt her that time.

Ophelia said nothing to the handsome Slytherin heir. She wanted to pick her hand up and raise it to the sky as far as he could, only to let it down and slap Tom square on his cheek. The Hufflepuff didn't do it though.

For the first time, Tom saw a dirty glare flash in his Ophelia's eyes. Her eyes were narrowed, a scowl was placed on her face, and he saw her hand gripped tightly around her wand like a cobra. Without even a huff, pout, or string of curses: the Hufflepuff turned away from the Slytherin and marched out of the potions room.

If looks could have killed and if Ophelia had the guts to, Tom was almost certain she would put up a good fight. Even he had to admit, that look of fire in the brunette's eyes was a good fit on her.

Tom stood alone in the potions room, everything felt bigger and emptier without Ophelia there for him to aggravate.

* * *

Hot tears were streaming down Ophelia's face as she walked away from the dungeons of Hogwarts.

She was angry, her shoulder was throbbing badly, she felt frigid, but most of all: she was unsure.

Ophelia was unsure if the heat and sting that came from her left shoulder meant blood or a terribly bad bruise. She was unsure what would happen if her friends, or worse, Edmund saw the teeth marks on her body because she was certain Tom left marks on her.

 _Oh, Edmund..._ Ophelia was unsure if Tom would go out of his way to make sure Edmund Campion knew how many times she and him laid together. More tears ran down Ophelia's face in horror at the thought of being publicly humiliated in such way. If that happened, she was then unsure if Margo, William, and Peter would even want to still be her friends and stand by her?

Though what made Ophelia was unsure the most, was if Tom would ever leave her be.

Sixth year had proven to be the hardest year when trying to appease and deal with Tom. Who knew how extreme seventh year would be with him? _Oh no..._ Ophelia stopped for a brief minute as dread nearly paralyzed her. _What if I am still stuck with him even after seventh year?_

Maybe once there was a time where the thought of Tom Marvolo Riddle being in Ophelia Mae Darwin's life after Hogwarts made her happy. Her and Tom. Tom and her.

They'd be the dream duo making the world spin with their distinct dynamic! Tom would have a distinguished job within the Ministry with Ophelia working in a library or similar bookkeeping job working to make sure Tom got the information he needed...It was a silly dream that a silly girl had.

 _I need to stop being a silly girl._ Ophelia tried to calm herself down to get the tears to stop. She kept running back to the handsome, cruel, young man because whether she consciously knew it or not: Ophelia kept a small amount of hope stocked on that silly dream.

By the time she made it back to the Hufflepuff common rooms, her eyes were a red mess and she looked mentally and emotionally drained.

"You're here!" William bounced towards the weary brunette, his arms open and taking his friend into a firm hug.

"Yeah," Ophelia weakly wrapped her arms around the tall and muscular Zolotov. "Well, I live here too you know."

Hugging William was much like hugging a dog (Ophelia always imagined a St. Bernard), and some of her dread went away.

They pulled away from the hug, William gestured to the boys' room. "If you would follow me please."

Ophelia paled slightly as she followed after the Russian descendant. "If there is a girl in your room you cannot get to go home! I am not helping you with this again!"

"Oh, ha-ha." William scoffed as he jumped onto his bed; there was a scattered array of photos, different clippings from the Daily Prophet, and different paper badges with the logo of the Hufflepuff emblem, and papers of different colors . A little gray album in the center of the artsy materials.

"Scrapbooking!" William announced happily. "My Babushka, this is her hobby. All nine grandchildren of their own scrapbook." He went on, "I am making this particular one for Margo and Peter. I wanted your help with coordination and whatnot."

"Scrapbook?" Ophelia sat on the corner of William's bed; she picked up the nearest photo. A happy sigh escaped Ophelia's mouth at the picture in her hand, this particular picture in her hand was a magical photograph.

The photograph brought back a happy moment. Margo, her, and Peter were first years and William was a second year, they were standing near the lake. The two girls were standing close to each other, one arm draped around the other's shoulder, kind smiles on both their faces. Off to the side, William and Peter were jumping up and down in the picture with crazed grins on their faces.

A small pang of guilt crashed on Ophelia, it had been awhile since her and Margo actually sat down and spoke heart to heart to each other.

"I'll help." The female said as she gathered a bunch of photos to look through. "I shall put these photographs in order from first year to now."

William nodded, "I'll cut up some colored paper."

Ophelia sorted the photos in proper order, a question bubbled up in her throat. "Hey, Will?"

"Hm?" The well built young man said, "Yes?"

"Do you think Margo hates me?"

"Huh?" William wasn't sure he heard right but he was sure that Margo could never hate Ophelia. "Why would you say that?" The sound of scissors cutting through paper faded in the background.

Ophelia only threw an annoyed look at her friend. "Guess, Zolotov."

William groaned, "I don't need to guess. I already know what you're on about and no, Margo doesn't hate you."

Then Ophelia thought about Tom and him opening his mouth to tell all of Hogwarts of their intimate rendezvous. _Would they all hate me?_ She asked another question. "Hey, William?"

Hanging out with Ophelia, sometimes reminded William of hanging out with his youngest sibling: a toddler who asked millions of questions per second. It wasn't bad, it just was just how William often viewed Ophelia. "Pipa?"

"Would you or Peter or Margo hate me if-." Ophelia never finished her question.

"No, Pipa." William put his scissors down and looked his friend straight in her eyes. _What is she on about?_ It worried William but he kept serious and calm with Ophelia. "I would never hate you. Peter would never hate you. Margo would never hate you."

There was a heavy pause as William's eyes scanned Ophelia's features. He recognized the melancholy look on Ophelia's face; his sister had that same look when their cousins picked on her. "You alright, mate?" William's voice held a defensive tone, "Is someone messing with you because you hang out with us?" _No one better be picking on you because of that,_ William thought angrily. In his mind, that was all William could correlate between Ophelia's emotional questions to: being bullied.

Ophelia shook her head as she kept flipping and organizing the photographs. "No, not being pick on." That might have been a slight lie. "I just...I don't want you guys to hate me if anything happens, you know? Does that make any sense?"

"Not one damn lick of sense in that statement but I'll take it." William went back to snipping paper. "Though I am offended you think your friend's would abandon you in a heartbeat." His voice was terribly serious. "Pipa, you are our friend and nothing can change that."

 _Oh, how could I not smile at that?_ Ophelia grinned like child at her friend. "Awe, William!"

"Hush, hush now." William rolled his eyes but a small child like smile came to his face too. "Help me or I am saying this gift came from only me instead of the both of us."

The pure-blooded Zolotov and half-blooded Darwin worked comfortably together, they cracked jokes and talked about anything random under the sun.

For a brief moment things felt right in Ophelia's world, much so to a point she made an important mental note in her head.

 _You need to make things better with Margo_ , Ophelia thought to herself. _You miss her too, anyways._

Ophelia Mae Darwin was going to keep at least her friendships in proper functioning order even if she couldn't keep anything proper with Tom Riddle involved.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I do not own 'Hamlet'-William Shakespeare does. I also do not own the classical music pieces listed in this chapter. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice.

I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible. This chapter is a long one, so I hope you all enjoy it. I promise to update as soon as I can.

Hopefully, you guys enjoy the chapter. I want to say thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. It shows me that people are interested in Ophelia's life and it lets me know I should continue her story. Please,please,please leave some reviews if you can! Thank you!

* * *

December 12, 1943

"Please?"

"No."

"Please!"

"No."

Ophelia frowned and huffed tried again. "Please, please, please,please. _Please_! Please!"

William Zolotov frowned and huffed back with more energy than his friend. " Pipa. Now or never." He tossed the scrapbook they had been working on most of the afternoon into Ophelia's hands. "Go, give it to Margo and talk to her while you're at it."

The muscular young man, while he had a fun time chattering about with Ophelia, William didn't want to end up cycling back to 'what if so-and-so hates me because of 'this-that-and-another-thing.'

"Fine!" Ophelia twirled some strands of hair with her finger; she was unsure how to start off a conversation with Margo after not talking to her for some time. "Should I go in with an apology or just go in all casual-like?"

"Casual-like." William answered quickly. He sloppily slapped on a bright pink ribbon on the cover of the scrapbook, nearly knocking Ophelia in process as the book was still in her arms. "Go on then- off you pop, Pipa."

Ophelia groaned at her friend. "Fine!"

William settled comfortably in his bed, napping was his main goal at the moment. "Close the door on the way out, please and thank you."

 _I ought to slam the door on you_. The brunette gently closed the boys' dormitory door to a quiet shut.

Ophelia wandered off to the girls' dormitory and laid down on Margo's bed, she placed the scrapbook her and William worked on for the past three hours on a nightstand by the bed.

A song by Doris Day played softly in the brunette's head and Ophelia hummed along. Sleep unintentionally crept on the half-blooded witch.

* * *

"Pipa doesn't like olives." Margo told Edmund as her and Peter rummaged through one of the many shops in Hogsmeade. The trio were in a little book shop off in a corner; Margo wanted to find a muggle book on wedding traditions and another book by a man of the name William Shakespeare.

Edmund nodded along but thought the information that Margo gave him was useless. "Okay then?"

"Oh!" Margo nearly shouted as she found a book on muggle wedding dresses; it started on the English Renaissance to the very current and modern 1943. It reminded the blonde young lady of something. "Music! Pipa loves music, Frank Sinatra is her _absolute_ favorite."

"She knows how to play piano, too." Peter added a aisles away from the half-siblings. "Not at an expert level but she knows how to read the notes and everything."

 _Music_? Edmund felt his heart leap in his chest as the mention of that. A smile that sourced from a sudden feeling of luck played on the French pure-blood's face. _I know where to find a piano._

Peter wandered through the many book aisles, looking for the book Margo stressed she needed for 'forgiveness purposes' whatever that meant. He was more impressed with the fact that Margo managed to be so civil towards her half-brother. The male with ashy brown hair stopped in front of a section labeled 'H'.

"Hamlet, was it?" Peter asked as he pulled the book off the shelf and walked over to Margo and Edmund. "Was that book you needed, Margo?"

"Yes!" Margo smiled and yanked the book out of the Elwood heir's hand. "Hamlet, that's the one!"

Edmund was starting to realize his half-sister had a constant habit of constantly being loud. _Almost like a banshee_ , Edmund thought. "Why do you need that book for?" The Ravenclaw was referring to the book by Shakespeare.

Margo rolled her eyes as she went to go pay for her two books. "For forgiveness purposes."

Edmund opened his mouth to ask a follow up question, but a weak grip feel on his right shoulder. Peter had clasped a hand on Edmund's shoulder, the boy with ashy brown hair shook his head at the blonde male.

Edmund caught the hint and stood silently by Peter; an idea for a plan concocted in the Ravenclaw's mind for him and Ophelia.

"Does Ophelia like candle lights or chocolates?" Edmund asked in a whisper towards Peter.

It took Peter no longer than three seconds to answer. "She hates candle lights and only like chocolate in the form of hot chocolate or cake."

Edmund found that more useful than her dislike of olives. "Thanks mate."

Peter nodded along. "Best of luck."

Margo led the way as they finally ventured away from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. She had the store clerk wrap the newly bought copy Hamlet in a pastel yellow gift wrapping paper. The pure-blooded blonde was nervous; would her best friend take this specific gesture of apology?

* * *

Ophelia awoke at the sound of a door closing to quick click and footsteps rushing over to her bed. For a groggy second she forgot why she fell asleep on Margo's bed.

 _Margo_. Ophelia thought as she sat up from her nap and grabbed the scrapbook off of the night stand.

Unintentionally, the blonde and the brunette both spoke at the same time. "I need to talk to you." Even though the two young ladies could be completely, there were times they were in sync with each other.

Silence crept between the two young ladies, but a childish yet shy grin was on their faces.

Ophelia was the first was to speak. "William and I made this for you and Peter." She handed the scrapbook over to Margo. "I also wanted to add in, that I am sorry for, uh, not talking to you the few days. Ophelia sighed, "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did just because you…."She tried to think of a polite way to say it.

"No-no-no!" Margo interrupted her friend and handed Ophelia the book in yellow gift wrapping paper. "Look, Pipa, I know I acted terribly and there is no excuse for it. You're not in the wrong for acting how you did…" Margo then added, "I got you this a gift, because I wanted to give you something that had your name it...and also because I wanted you to forgive me."

Ophelia automatic knew what it was, she ripped the gift wrapping paper apart and saw a new copy of _Hamlet_. The gesture was well meant, so the half-blooded witch took the gift with a smile. "Thank you, Margo."

Margo smiled as she looked through the pictures of the scrapbook; the pink ribbon was left alone. The Blaine witch loved how the pictures were chronicled and how they were carefully matched to different colors on each page. "I've also been meaning to tell you something, by the way."

Ophelia had only cracked her new book open. "Go for it."

"Edmund Campion is my half-brother. His mother and my father had a fling and then shortly after he was born, then after that, I came along."

Ophelia slowly looked away from the first few sentences printed out in front of her. A look of complete and utter bewildered meant overtook Ophelia's face. "What the _ **fuck**_?"

Margo blushed but explained the whole situation to her friend. It took about nearly an hour by the time Margo hashed out all the details; she did find it nice to let Ophelia in on something that she had hid from her for a long time.

"And that's why I was so cold towards Edmund," Margo finished off.

Ophelia sat there quietly as Margo explained everything to her. Quietly taking all the details in and trying her best to not speak out of turn. "I see." It slowly all started to make sense in the half-blooded witch's mind. _Edmund and Margo look similar, I suppose._

"So, yeah." Margo couldn't tell if Ophelia was mad her. The pure-blooded witch never did like short responses or silence very well."You aren't mad at me, are you?"

Ophelia shrugged, to be honest, she didn't care about who Margo's father shagged or who Margo was related to. Margo was Margo, and Margo was simply her friend. Ophelia shook her head, "You daft thing, why would I be mad at you over that."

However, Ophelia was concerned about something else...Margo had gone out of her way to confess something to her that she otherwise would have no clue about. Maybe it was guilt that made Ophelia Darwin concerned, because honestly, if one were to sit down and think on it: now would be the perfect time for confessions, wouldn't it?

Ophelia felt the guilt spread from her chest to her arms with a slight heat . The world suddenly seemed heavy, as if that guilt alone because its own little universe that decided to settle on her shoulder.

There would be no point in telling Margo anything, right? She'd already told Dumbledore how terrible Tom Riddle was, right?

 _Right? I did do that? I am sure I did._ Though with Dumbledore gone the past few days, Ophelia wasn't even sure. Anyways, why should Ophelia inflict that information on Margo? There was no way Margo would keep her mouth shut with information involving the true side of Tom mostly everyone else had been safely starved from.

 _No,_ Ophelia thought as the heated guilt crept up to her face. If keeping a secret, not any regular secret, meant feeling like every fiber of a human body was on fire-Ophelia was already covered in gas. _I'll spare Margo a confession._ She just had to keep the secret in until the rest of her natural life and that alone would cause the spark to start the fire.

If anything, if the fire didn't start that way, Ophelia was sure Tom would be there, holding the match to help the flames along the way.

"Are you okay?" Margo carefully reached across and patted Ophelia's hand. "Pipa? You've been quiet for a while now?"

Ophelia nearly winced away from her friend; but she had gotten better had resisting the urge to flinch away. "Sorry." Ophelia tried to shrug off the heavy feeling on her shoulders. A little white lie in the form of a question bubbled on her tongue. "I was thinking how you knew to get this book? How did you know my name is in here somewhere?"

Margo smirked. "I wrote to Wendy!"

Ophelia did however flinch at that. "You wrote to my Mum?"

"I've written to her a couples time, actually." Margo stated calmly. "Lovely woman, you need to write to her often. She worried you're not making enough time to connect with family while you are away."

The brunette had to roll her eyes at that. "I cannot believe-."

Margo easily interrupted her friend. "Well, I needed to tell your Mum I wanted you to come to my engagement party over holiday." The blonde dead-panned . "Besides, if you asked Wendy would have probably said no. If I asked she'd say yes."

Ophelia blinked at her friend, although Margo was damn well and correct with that statement it stunned her. "So?" Ophelia asked. "Did my Mum say yes?"

Margo smiled her brightest smile that was strong enough to blind a dragon. "Yes!"

Ophelia couldn't help but laugh, mainly because she couldn't believe it. Her? Ophelia Mae Darwin, rubbing elbows and mingling with the pure-bloods of the wizarding society.

Now that alone sounded magical and terrifying all at once. _I ought to tell Tom about that! He'd wouldn't believe it!_

A small jolt of honest hopelessness filtered through her and it caused her laughing to stop.

Why was it Tom who she thought to tell first?

"Now your laughing is done and over with," Margo chimed as she pulled out her new book on muggle wedding dresses. "Please come and look at these with me."

The two young Hufflepuffs were back to carrying on like they always had, as if days of no communication between them had never happened.

* * *

Tom Riddle was content to wait in the Ravenclaw common room. He didn't mind it terribly, Ravenclaws were a smart bunch. The only thing that he did mind terribly so, was the fact that hanging about in their common room meant one and only thing: Selene Sharpe.

Honestly, Selene Sharpe was stunning. From her red hair, to her steel blue eyes,to her curves: she was physically perfect. That's where the perfection of Selene ends in Tom's opinion.

Tom found he hated her cocky attitude; her demanding nature; and how Selene Shape acted like she knew everything. Most of all, the heir of Slytherin hated how comfortable the red headed beauty was with him.

The young lady had no shame! None! Selene Sharpe had practically paraded him to the rest of the females in her house, making a show of how: 'Tom you cannot keep doing this! Either you want me or not, I am getting tired of this cycle we do!'

 _Ophelia had good and sound mind to feel shame when shame was aching to be felt._ Tom rolled his eyes but he went along with it. All it took from him was a boyish grin and genuinely heartless apology.

"Have you seen, Campion by any chance lately?" The heir of Slytherin sat on the common room couch. He had to restrain his automatic response of scooting away from Selene as she settled in close to him.

Selene was nearly sitting in the handsome teen's lap. "Campion?" Her voice was sultry and soft, "Why? What do you need him for?"

"Slug club reasons," Tom easily lied.

"How odd." Selene was confused. "Do we have a meeting with Professor Slughorn soon? I must have missed the memo."

 _Shit_. Tom paid such little attention to red-headed teen, he'd forgotten she was in Slug Club as well. The heir of Slytherin easily came up with another lie to solidify his first lie. "No, it has to do with Slug Club members who are also in Advanced Potions."

Tom knew for a _fact_ Selene was not in Advanced Potions with him. He also knew for a fact Selene probably knew shit all about Campion's classes.

Selene was going to open her mouth and Tom sure she would say something to try to get him into her bed but thankfully, Selene never got to speak a word.

"Riddle?" The French pure-blood arched an eyebrow at the Slytherin male in the common room. It took Edmund aback, the sight of Selene Sharpe so close to Tom Riddle. Though he supposed it was better than a particular Hufflepuff being nearly on the Slytherin's lap. "You look comfortable."

Selene giggled. "I kept him company while he waited for you. Something about Advanced Potions and Slug Club."

 _Shut up_ , Tom thought bitterly as he stood up.

Selene was almost thrown off the couch at how abruptly Tom got up. "Tom, careful please."

Edmund narrowed his eyes at the sight in front of him but he held his tongue. In Edmund's personal opinion: if Tom didn't care for Selene the way she obviously did, Tom shouldn't have been leading her on.

Tom ignored Selene and held a steady and stony glare at Edmund. "Campion, would you mind if you and I exchanged a few words?"

Edmund shrugged, "Sure, what's on your mind."

A dark look quickly flashed on Tom's face, but no one picked up on it, "Perhaps we could talk somewhere private? You know between us lads?" Tom's voice was that perfect and signature calm and smooth tone.

Edmund shot a look at Selene, he saw her usual happy and perky demeanor had fallen. They never had much conversation, but they were civil towards each other. "Is that alright with you, Sharpe?"

Tom held a bitter response in his mouth and bit down on his tongue. _Much respect for Miss Sharpe you have, Campion._ Tom Riddle wasn't an idiot, he knew that Edmund Campion was trying to get Selene Sharpe involved in the conversations so they wouldn't have to speak one-on-one.

Selene hesitated before she answered but she had an linking as to what Tom wanted her answer to be. "Of course." The beautiful teen threw a kind smile at the Slytherin prefect. "Whatever you want, Tom."

 _You poor thing_ , Edmund thought as he felt immensely pitiful towards Selene.

"You heard the lady," Tom threw a coy smirk towards Selene and he was sure he made the red-headed girl feel special. "She's fine with it."

Edmund took a steady breath and quietly let it out. "Alright then, follow me." It wasn't a really chatty invite towards the Slytherin but the French pure-blood directed him to a secluded nook in the common room. He wanted to get straight to the point. "So what brings your around here?"

"Straight down to business," Tom was impressed that the Ravenclaw wasn't one to beat around the bush. The heir of Slytherin found that rather noble of Campion. "I respect like-minded individuals such as you."

Edmund Campion didn't know why, but that didn't feel like a compliment coming from Slytherin's golden boy. "Really what did you want to talk about, Riddle?" Edmund found himself leaning against a bookshelf and craving a joint to calm his slowly growing annoyance towards the young man with black hair. "I doubt it was so you could compliment me."

 _You could have been a competent accomplice._ Tom opened his mouth to speak. "Ophelia passed her potions test today." _It really was a pity Edmund was a pure-blood who took a liking to someone he shouldn't have._ Tom figured he left Campion alone and alive due to the fact that Tom didn't want to waste perfectly fine pure-blood.

"Of course she did." Edmund tried his best hide the smile that bloomed on his face at the mention of Ophelia. "Darwin's a brilliant witch." The Ravenclaw was planning to talk to the Hufflepuff after dinner, he wanted to take her to the Room of Requirement where Edmund was more than certain a piano could be found there. _I can congratulate on a job well done while I am at it._

Of course Edmund didn't know Tom was able to perform Legilimency with such ease and perfection.

Tom was not going to let Edmund anywhere near Ophelia if he could help it. "Yes, she is." Tom agreed through half-way gritted teeth. "By the way, you don't need to worry about getting Ophelia caught up for exams." Tom kept his cool as best as he could. "You've been cutting into my time with her."

"Excuse me?" There was a slight tone of aggression in Edmund. "I am cutting into your time with her?" The French teen had to scoff at that. "I don't know about you Riddle, but I've been hanging out around Darwin only if I know she wants me around her. I don't force her into spending time with me."

"What makes you think I force her into spending time with me?" Tom questioned. "Last time I checked, she only hung around you because some teachers told her in order to get her grades up she had to study with you."

A little bit of Edmund's ego crumbled at that, but he remained calm. "With that being said, Riddle, when was the last time you got to be alone with Darwin?"

Tom's reply was quick. "I can't tell you the last time but I will tell you this: she'll be with me tonight."

"You going to force her?" Edmund was making his distaste for the Slytherin prefect more and more obvious.

Tom on the other hand revealed nothing. "I'll let you think what you want, Campion." He smirked at his fellow sixth-year classmate. "Have a good rest of the day."

The Slytherin ignore Selene Sharpe on his way out.

"I guess he wasn't in the mood today." She sighed with a hurt tone.

Edmund Campion didn't know how to comfort the beautiful witch properly so he said something he thought as nice. "You really could do better than Riddle, you know that right?"

Selene Sharpe chuckled at that, a very subtle hint of blush flushed to her cheeks. Edmund didn't take notice of it.

* * *

By the time dinner rolled around Ophelia, Margo, and Peter all gathered at the Hufflepuff table in their usual formation. Margo and Peter sitting next to each other and Ophelia sitting across from them.

"Peter did you not care to wake William up for dinner?" Margo scolded as she reached for some leafy greens and other vegetables set out on the table.

"You try waking a bear up during hibernation," Peter retorted as he poured some tea into a cup for himself. "William doesn't wake up until he is good and ready to wake up."

Ophelia went in for a slice of honey ham and mashed potatoes; she added a crumpet to her plate. "More food for us then. Not only does he sleep like a bear, he eats like one."

"Oh no!" Margo paled and snapped her gaze straight onto Ophelia. "Pipa, do you think he'll eat like that at my engagement party?"

Ophelia looked to Peter for an answer. "I'm not sure. Peter, what do you think?"

"No doubt he'll have gruesome table manners at your party, Margo." Peter then added another statement before the blonde witch could freak out about their friend's eating etiquette. "Though everyone will be focused on you, not William."

Ophelia couldn't help but smile. Peter always knew what to say to Margo to calm her down and put things into perspective. _Maybe one day I'd have someone who will do that for me…_

About an hour later Margo, Ophelia and Peter began to head back to their cozy Hufflepuff house for the night. They didn't notice the male who sudden cried for Ophelia's attention.

"Ophelia!"

All three friends froze, Peter being the gentleman he was ushered the two females behind his shoulders until the voice yelling for Ophelia showed their face.

"Ophelia." Edmund popped through the crowd with a serious expression on his face.

"Hey, look." Peter teased at Margo. "Your favorite brother is coming this way."

Margo leaned into Peter for a whisper. "He is my only brother."

Ophelia smirked and let a quick tease towards Margo out of her mouth as well. "That you know of."

Peter got a good laugh out of that.

"Oh hush!" Margo said with a huff.

"Edmund, hello." Ophelia said with a kind smile. "How are you today?"

Edmund smiled at Ophelia, "Good, are you busy right now?"

Margo answered for Ophelia, she wanted her friend to know she was turning over a new leaf. Margo also wanted Peter to see her be the person he thought she could be. "Pipa's completely free right now." The blonde witch pushed the brunette towards her half-brother before grabbing Peter's hand and jolting away with the Elwood heir. "You two crazy kids have fun! Have Pipa back to her room by ten tonight!"

With that Margo and Peter took off and left Ophelia standing alone in front of Edmund.

The Hufflepuff female focused on Edmund. "As Margo answered on my behalf: no, I am not busy at the moment."

The handsome Ravenclaw gave Ophelia a rather shy smile as he reached for her hand in a careful motion. "Follow me, _s'il vous plait_."

So she did with her heart beating sporadically in her chest. Her heartbeat in a quick, irregular rhythm with her hands in Edmund's all the way to the Room of Requirement.

 _Riddle isn't going to do a damn thing,_ Edmund figured as he looked over his shoulder towards the Slytherin table. Edmund couldn't even spot the prick.

There, off to left hand side of the room, pushed in a position that was neither centered or crooked was a square grand piano.

Ophelia couldn't help but giggle. "Edmund, are you going to play me a song?" She rushed over to the piano and pressed her finger on a key that played a G flat note. "This is delightful, really."

Edmund sat down on the bench in front of the piano and gestured for Ophelia to join him. The brunette practically jumped down in the spot next to Edmund. The Ravenclaw felt something tightness in his chest while also feeling like he was floating on air when he saw the bright smile on Ophelia's face.

He saw how Ophelia's fingers fidgeted in her lap, she wanted badly to play.

"No." Edmund leaned in to whisper softly into the pretty witch's ear. His breath tickled against her ear, and he was pleasantly met with that lovely cinnamon scent. "I heard you could play piano, so I thought since you did so well on your potions test, we could celebrate by having you play out a song or two."

"Really?" Ophelia wondered if there was another word to describe happiness. If there was it wasn't something that could be described directly with one word,it must have been a sensation that was only felt. She was so happy and so enthused that Edmund, someone she hadn't known too long, went ahead and thought to do something for her this sweet,

It was in that instant Ophelia and Edmund shared a second kiss; a much deeper kiss than their first one in the library. She wrapped her arms around Edmund's neck while Edmund allowed his hands to rest on her hips. This particular kiss lasted for close to three minutes.

Edmund pulled away when he realized his pants suddenly felt tight. He easily played off cool by placing a gentle peck on Ophelia's lips then coaxing her to play a tune on the piano. "Come on, Ophelia. Play a song, please?"

"If you insist, Edmund." Ophelia positioned her hands over the key of the square grand piano. "Any requests?" She got her fingers ready to start playing the few opening notes of Tchaikovsky's _Nutcracker:Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy_. It was her mother's favorite to hear around the winter season.

"Play me something fun." Edmund leaned close to her, one hand gently on her hip still. "Or play something you love to play."

 _Rhapsody in Blue_ by Gershwin came to Ophelia's mind and immediately her fingers quickly fired off on the piano keys.

Edmund enjoyed the music that flew from the piano and to his ears; even when Ophelia hit a bad note or three as she played, he loved how she went along still playing.

Ophelia was almost done with the song when a harsh voice cut into the music, causing the piano player to freeze in a millisecond.

"What is going on here?" Tom Riddle crept quietly into the Room of Requirement without the notice of the witch and wizard at the piano until he felt ready to be noticed. He should have jumped out and made his presence know when he saw Ophelia and Edmund press their lips together for a kiss. Tom couldn't, the sight he saw then had froze him on the inside and it left him stunned until he was able to properly find rage to warm him over.

Immediately, Ophelia just knew Tom had been there the whole time. The happiness and excitement that bounced around in her body was erased the minute she turned around and saw the expression on Tom's face.

Edmund stood in front of Ophelia, he acted as a protective barrier for Ophelia because he wasn't going to let anything happen to her. "Riddle, she's only playing a song." He took a step closer to Tom. "There's no rule stating Darwin cannot play a tune on the piano."

 _Edmund..._ Ophelia shut her eyes and grabbed him by the back of his robe. "Please, Edmund, stop." Her throat felt dry, she wasn't sure if the words even came out of her mouth loud enough for the Ravenclaw to hear.

"No," Edmund ignored the Hufflepuff's please. "I don't know who you think you are, but you don't own her."

Tom's eyes flashed towards Ophelia, her eyes shut in fear and hands tightly gripped on Edmund's robe. _Fine,_ Tom thought bitterly, _keep your eyes shut darling._

Edmund Campion was a brilliant and talented wizard, but he didn't stand a chance against the likes of Tom Riddle. All one could say was that at the very least, the Ravenclaw was lucky the Slytherin prefect wasn't too keen on spilling pure-blood at the moment.

Ophelia's heart drop at sound of Tom's voice and even more so at the curse that flew from his mouth.

It happened too fast for Edmund Campion, he didn't have time to draw his wand.

" _Imperio_." Tom didn't even hesitate when it came to uttering curses.

"Tom!" Ophelia screamed. _Why do you ruin everything!_ Tears streamed down her face, she was terrified of what Tom would do to Edmund all the while the reminded that there was a blank memory somewhere in her mind floated into her thoughts. It added to her fear. "Stop it! Tom! Please, stop!"

Tom ignored her. "You really are a child, crying because you don't get your way." He stepped in closer to the Ravenclaw who stood calmly between Ophelia and him. Tom stared right into Edmund's gray eyes. "You, Campion, are getting off easy."

"Tom...stop…" Ophelia found the courage to stand up but she hadn't found the courage to move away from behind Edmund.

"You are going to walk to your room, all the way in the Ravenclaw tower. Then you are going to point your wand to your head and use 'Obliviate' on yourself. After that, Campion, you are going to bed."

Ophelia held her breath. She was waiting for the worst part of Tom's command but he ended it on that.

Without another word, a totally calm and relaxed Edmund Campion walked away leaving Ophelia alone with Tom.

"Edmund…" Ophelia cried as she tried to reach after him. "Edmund! Come back!" She couldn't reach him. Someone got in her way.

Tom said nothing as he moved in on the half-blood he was so certain belong to him. His strong and steady arms wrapped Ophelia into a tight and surprising welcoming hug. He brushed a few stray strands of hair out Ophelia's face; he was being gentle as possible with her.

"Why?" Ophelia cried into Tom's chest as she weakly tried to push him away from her. "Why do you do this to me?"

 _Because I refuse to let another wizard have you._ Tom rubbed his hand along Ophelia's back as a response to her question. For a brief second he even made some 'shushing' sounds to calm Ophelia down as well.

"If you don't love me-no." Ophelia's voice was hoarse from the crying. "Tom, if you don't even like me-why won't you let me have the chance to be with someone who makes me happy."

Tom didn't know if he loved Ophelia, he wasn't even sure if he liked her all that much. All he knew was that Ophelia was his. The heir of Slytherin carefully placed his lips against Ophelia's without any warming but he took her lips because he wanted to re-claim them as his.

Tom's kiss added confusion to all the strong emotions that took up space in Ophelia's mind and soul. It was one of those gentle and chaste kisses he gave her-the kind that seemed like there was no word to describe how he felt for her.

Nothing would ever be able to describe how Tom Riddle felt for Ophelia Darwin. That was as much Darwin's plight as it was Riddle's.

The Slytherin heir brought his wand to the side of the Hufflepuff's face, who only tensed and grabbed onto his wrists tightly.

"Keep your eyes closed, Ophelia-darling." The tone Tom used was neither sarcastic or viscous in nature...It actually sounded sincere.

"Tom...don't do this to me...Please." Tears were stinging Ophelia's eyes. The brunette hated how both her and Tom knew she wasn't a match for him,

"You'll sleep fine tonight." Tom insisted, he placed a sickeningly soft peck against her cheek. "I promise."

Ophelia shook her head in protest as a scared whimpered escaped her lips.

Tom whispered his spell like a parent would whisper a lullaby to a child; he gracefully caught Ophelia so she wouldn't collapse to the ground.

The heir of Slytherin felt no remorse about his actions as he carried Ophelia away to the Hufflepuff house. _Why should I feel bad?_ Tom thought to himself. _I am the one making sure she is getting back to her room safe and sound._

Ophelia Darwin would wake up the next day, terribly groggy yet rested at the same time. Details of that moment between her, Tom, and Edmund would only seem like a foggy dream she wouldn't want to really want to make sense of.

It blurred her senses a slight bit more.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I also do not own the classical music pieces listed in this chapter. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice.

This story is rated 'M' for a reason-this chapter contains a sex scene.

I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible. This chapter is a long one, so I hope you all enjoy it. I am still getting used to work and an irregular work schedule so, please,please just hang in there. I will update as soon as I can!

Hopefully, you guys enjoy the chapter. I want to say thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. It shows me that people are interested this story and that I should continue. Please,please,please leave some reviews if you can! Thank you!

* * *

December 13, 1943

First thing Professor Dumbledore heard in the early hours before his lessons of the day started was an errupture of knocks on his office door. He was worn out from a terribly strenuous side venture; Grindelwald was getting more and more out of hand. Dumbledore tried and with a couple days of his best research hunting: nothing.

Albus Dumbledore was still human and he could only do so much. As he opened the door, it revealed one of his most diligent Transfiguration students.

"Professor?" Ophelia stood in front of the doorway, she knew there must have been roughly an hour before she had his class. "A moment, please? Uh-if that is alright?" She heard from William that Dumbledore was back yesterday night and the need to check if what William said was in fact, true.

The kind man allowed the student into his office. "Miss Darwin, eager to brace the day."

Ophelia shrugged as led herself to take a seat in front of Professor Dumbledore's desk. "I suppose."

"Lemon sherbet, my dear?" Dumbledore offered as he took a seat behind his desk.

"No sweets for me, thank you." Ophelia was unsure as to how to start her opening statement. "Say, Professor, I did speak to you before, um." She had to stop herself to really grasp what she was about to say.

Dumbledore couldn't help but feel some concern growing for the girl. "Is something the matter?"

Ophelia's eyes shifted around the office. Maybe she was going mad-just like her namesake. "I did speak to you before you left? About...Riddle?"

 _So that was what she was all fussy for._ Dumbledore didn't know if 'fussy' and Tom could be used easily in a sentence. "You did."

That blank, white slot of where a memory should have been popped in Ophelia's head. "I told you everything?"

The auburn haired wizard nodded solemnly. "Every incriminating detail but with no incrimination evidence to be reported nor found." He then found himself repeating the advice he gave his student back to their initial conversation. "You are to be extremely careful around him."

 _So I'm not going crazy!_

"I know, I know." Ophelia placed a hand over mouth for a brief minute, her thoughts were processing too slowly and her mouth wanted to talk too fast. "I just…" She thought back to a dream she had over the weekend.

 _That dream, everything...Edmund, the lively tunes of Rhapsody in Blue...and Tom being there seemed so real._ Ophelia's hand was still over her mouth and for a brief minute she almost felt the memory of a kiss from that all too realistic dream.

"Do you think…" Ophelia felt like something really was going to drive her mad, it was either herself, Tom, or Hogwarts.

"I do think," Dumbledore stated easily. "I tend to think often." He offered the girl a weak smile, a gesture meant to offer the girl some comfort in order to get to speak.

"Is it possible, Hogwarts might not be safe." There was a blood chilling pause as Ophelia began to make sense of what she was trying to convey. "For me, I mean. Is it possible Hogwarts might not be safe for me?"

This question caused the Transfigurations professor to experience the cold and still sensation of dread. _Hogwarts? Not safe?_ Dumbledore couldn't comprehend that situation happening, but just because he couldn't understand it did not mean that it would never happen.

"As long as I am here, Miss Darwin, I will do my best to ensure that Hogwarts is safe." That was all Dumbledore could say because that was the only certain promise he could give.

The young lady with pale green eyes nodded her head solemnly, so came to her own conclusion. Dumbledore can keep Hogwarts safe, but he couldn't specifically keep Ophelia safe. A delicate frown settled into her face and her features look all the more serious; a thought came to her mind but she was unsure.

"Darwin." Dumbledore called out to her, "In the regards of Tom Riddle-I do not think he would hurt you. He would get nothing out of hurting you." The auburn haired wizard tried to sound comforting towards the witch but even then, Dumbledore was unsure.

Both the adult and the teen were unsure, and that was completely discouraging.

Ophelia did feel though, that Tom Riddle, in all his actions, did get something out of tormenting her.

"I better be off." Ophelia said with her best fake impression of a optimistic tone. "I do believe I have gruesome exams today, tomorrow, and all the way until Friday." She stood and readied herself to leave the kind professor's office.

Dumbledore knew the Hufflepuff found no comfort in his words or in the manner he approached her question. He was only human, he might have been one of the best wizards of all time right next to Merlin...The fact the Albus Dumbledore was human still remained and even a wizard himself could only do so much.

"Whatever it is you are planning, or whatever it is you thinking, _Ophelia_." Dumbledore stressed the use of having said the student's first name instead of last.

The brunette turned around and listened carefully to the older man's words; she didn't utter one word back.

Dumbledore continued on, "You make sure it isn't a brash decision."

Ophelia couldn't help but smile, she was the opposite of brash. Yes, the brunette tended to do things without thinking but that didn't necessarily translate to shrugged her shoulders, a little smile on her face. "No promises, Professor. You know me, all brash and wild."

It helped to lighten the mood but it didn't completely lift the seriousness of anything really.

"I'll see you in class soon, Miss Darwin."

* * *

Edmund Campion smiled at Ophelia Darwin as she made her way towards him; a big smile erupted on her face when the Ravenclaw waved at the Hufflepuff to take a seat by him.

"Hey, you." Edmund greeted as soon as Ophelia took a sit besides him. "Long time no see."

Steel gray eyes and dull green eyes skirted around the classroom; as per usual it was empty save the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw being present.

Edmund leaned into Ophelia and gave her a peck on the cheek. The peck was sweet and fleeting; it didn't feel suffocating or urgent. If the innocence of young flings could ever be captured in a moment: that moment would be brought by the French Ravenclaw and the ever-so-English Hufflepuff.

"Morning Edmund," Ophelia's voice wasn't too chipper considering her day so far, but her tone of voice sounded content enough. "Guess who passed their potions test from the other week?"

"I don't need to guess, I already know." Edmund playfully nudged Ophelia with an elbow. "Congrats, Ophelia. You'll finish the actual final with no problem at all, I am sure of it."

With a morning that started off with Dumbledore and Ophelia uncertain; it really was nice that Edmund Campion was...Even if it was only about tests and other things academically related. That earned the handsome Ravenclaw a peck on the lips instead of his cheek.

"You're too kind, Edmund." Ophelia said with a calm sigh and little coy smile. _I wished I met you sooner._

"You make me want to be kind." On the young man cheek's there was a soft shade of red heating his face up. Not because of the kiss he got from Ophelia; it was more of a blush of embarrassment (something he didn't feel too often up until recently.) ' _You make me want to be kind'?_ He criticized in himself in his thoughts. _Great job at making yourself sound like a royal prick, Campion._

A couple more students ventured into the classroom, ready to sit down and take on their first final before winter holiday.

"Best of luck," Ophelia whispered as she heard Dumbledore began to go over the rules and outline of their test.

Edmund usually wasn't the type who believed in luck, he only took that statement from Ophelia kindly because it was her who was saying it to him and not anyone else. "Same to you."

Edmund had only needed an hour and twenty-five minutes to thoroughly complete his test.

"I'll wait for you outside," Edmund whispered as he got up to turn his work in. "Take your time and you'll do brilliantly."

Ophelia nodded along to his words and continued on with her test; there were at least sixteen other students left in the room with her.

That transfigurations test took nearly two and a half for Ophelia to finish up, she was glad she wasn't the last one in the class to turn in her work. There were at least ten students still working on the test by the time she was done.

"I don't know about you, Edmund." Ophelia said as soon as she spotted him lounging about in the hallway. "I could really go for something to eat."

Edmund was leaning against the hallway walls, his hands comfortably resting in his robe pockets. "I wouldn't mind accompanying you to the Grand Hall for lunch, if you'd like."

That's when an idea sparked in Ophelia's mind. "Do you have any other finals today?"

The Ravenclaw shrugged. "Not until about three o'clock. I have advanced potions."

"I don't have my history of magic final today until two thirty." Ophelia would never have thought of actually leaving Hogwarts so early into the day. "I say we skip lunch at the Grand Hall and book it over to Hogsmeade for some butter beer and other goodies." The Hufflepuff always wanted to switch a few hours of class for a few hours of Hogsmeade.

Edmund was quiet. _Go to Hogsmeade on a Monday?_ He didn't like the sound of that. "Maybe another time, Ophelia?"

"Oh...Yeah." Ophelia was really hoping on Edmund saying 'yes'. "Sure." There was an obvious tone of sadness in her voice.

"It's just, well you know," Edmund began to explain when he realized the honest answer wasn't the right answer. "Finals are really important around this time and I cannot-we cannot afford to be late." Edmund wanted to grab her hand and lead her to the Grand Hall-he couldn't promise a day out at Hogsmeade but he could promise lunch together.

"Campion!"

Edmund and Ophelia turned their heads towards the feminine voice. Ophelia felt immense insignificance when the red headed beauty known as Selene Sharpe stood next to her. Edmund was rather confused that Selene Sharpe called out for him so warmly.

"Sharpe." Edmund kept his tone smooth and even. "Good afternoon."

The female Ravenclaw beamed at the French wizard. "Campion, what are you doing out here in the hallway?"

Ophelia was going to say they had both finished their exam for Transfiguration and were going to catch lunch, but Edmund managed to speak faster than her.

"I was about to get lunch. Why do you ask?" Edmund was more focused on Selene and his conversation than what he and Ophelia were going to do.

Ophelia stood there awkwardly, feeling like she wasn't worthy enough to exist when Selene's ever so perfect presence was right by her _. Really? First Tom and now Edmund? Really, Sharpe?_

The red-headed Ravenclaw shot a side glance at the Hufflepuff and quick flare of disgust flashed in her eyes at the sight of the half-blood. Selene fixed her gaze back on Edmund, "Astronomy, Campion."

"Astronomy?" Edmund was lost for a brief minute before his eyes widened in horror. " _Astronomy_!"

"We better get a move on, Professor Yohans only gave me fifteen extra minutes to find you." Selene tugged on the sleeve of Edmund's robe. "Let's go."

"Right!" Edmund dashed off with Selene. He turned his head over his shoulder slightly, "I'll catch up with you later, Darwin!"

Ophelia weakly waved at Edmund, "Bye then." She let out a hurt and rather dejected scoff from her mouth. _You go from calling me 'Ophelia' to 'Darwin' that easily?_

Ophelia didn't know if she had a right to feel sad or angry. Her stomach let out a deep growl, and another scoff escaped her lips. _Grand Hall it is then…_

* * *

There was no sight of any of her friends in the Grand Hall. Ophelia's mood was dwindling by the minute; she really wanted someone to talk to or have someone to talk about their problems so she wouldn't have to wallow in her own misery.

Ophelia's gaze drifted over the Slytherin dining table… _No sign of Tom._ Lunch was uneventful for the Hufflepuff, utilizing this time to prep for the history final as she ate and it made her look incredibly bookish.

A look Tom Riddle thought was a rather nice change on Ophelia's face, he was also pleased to see that no Ravenclaw was anywhere near her. He could have sat down at the Slytherin dining table, all his pure-blooded lackies gathering in around him-he wasn't interested.

Without much of an announcement, Tom slammed his advanced potions book onto the surface of the Hufflepuff's dining table. A small smirk came to Tom's handsome features as the echo of the heavy book caused the brunette to reel back instantly.

The quick and easy scare had made Ophelia very aware of Tom, who was now seated across from her.

"Eating and studying at the same time?" Tom went on, "I see you finally learned how to multitask, Ophelia." Tom, well no, _young men_ had a habit of noticing sudden changes in a young lady all at once in one sudden setting. Tom was studying Ophelia intently. Once again her mousy brown hair had grown longer-to wear it was right in the middle of her back; her neck was starting to remind Tom of a swan's elegant neck, and her lips, while still somewhat thin began to look more shapely.

He felt an odd sense of attraction to Ophelia at that moment, it was odd only because to an extent it felt much stronger.

Whatever interest Ophelia had in her food was gone; the spoon she had used to eat her soup made a small 'clink' on the bowl; she then closed the text book she was reading from.

Tom arched an eyebrow at his Hufflepuff, his smirk was still present on his face. The handsome young man leaned in closer from across the table. "I meant that nicely, Ophelia."

Another scoff escaped from her lips; something she had been doing increasingly more today. "Tom," Ophelia was gathering her things, "You're never nice to me."

The Slytherin almost wanted to say he had carried Ophelia back to her room the other night but he kept his mouth shut-he knew it happened. Ophelia, he was sure, didn't know it was real.

"I'm heading off, having a good rest of the day. Good luck on any of your finals, Tom." Ophelia moved quickly as an attempt to get away from him.

Tom didn't like how she had grown so confident with blowing him off.

"Where are you headed off to?" Tom had easily caught up to her, his potions book tucked under his arm. "A final?"

"No."

Tom began to feel his last nerve being tested. Here he was, attempting to be much nicer to the half-blood witch he was surely beneath him and there Ophelia was, ignoring his best efforts. He was tired of this, Ophelia acting as if she was no longer phased by him, acting as if he was nothing.

Tom RIddle was the heir of Slytherin, he was not nothing...Tom Riddle was someone-he was going to be a very strong and powerful someone.

He wouldn't even be Tom Riddle anymore...He'd be Lord Voldemort and Ophelia could be there, willingly or not.

Tom quickly glanced around their surroundings, there were a few students in his sight so he knew he couldn't grab and drag the Hufflepuff anywhere. He decided to play it cool. Tom easily draped his left arm around her shoulders, his fingers forcefully pressed into Ophelia's dainty bicep.

She tensed under his grip, but she knew what this action had meant.

Tom said nothing as they walked along the hallways.

He led her to the Room of Requirement, off to the left, towards a square grand piano.

"What are you doing, Tom?" Ophelia asked fighting the urge to shrug Tom's arm off of her.

"What does it look like?" Tom replied back as he drew away from Ophelia and towards the piano. He placed his book on top of the piano and played a random note.

Ophelia felt her heart beating wildly in her chest and with each random key and note Tom played on the piano, her heart felt like it was in her throat. Her mind was kept thinking of the dream she had not too long ago. _Piano...Edmund...Tom…_

"Don't stand there, Ophelia." Tom snapped at her with a soft yet demanding tone.

Ophelia took a seat by Tom on the bench in front of the piano, she put her book on top of Tom's. She felt like the room was spinning and the only thing that kept her from falling off the bench, was being by Tom.

 _Piano...Edmund...Tom…_

"Ophelia?" Tom was starting to peek into Ophelia's thoughts. He saw that she thinking of the other night she was in here with Edmund.

 _Tom...Piano…Edmund?_

"Ophelia," Tom's voice boomed out louder, he placed a hand over hers and gave it a tight and almost hurtful squeeze. He then placed that hand over the keys of the piano. "Play me something."

Ophelia was reluctant. All she could think of was the tunes of Gershwin's _Rhapsody in Blue._ "I don't think I should."

Tom was angry for a brief moment. _So you'll play for Campion in a heartbeat but you won't for me?_ He wasn't thinking too clearly but he tried again to get the Hufflepuff to play. "Ophelia, please, play me something. Please."

It did sound sincere enough to be true. Ophelia sighed quietly and positioned her fingers over the piano keys. The sounds of Chopin's _Nocturne No. 2 in E Flat Major_ rang through the room.

Unlike playing _Rhapsody in Blue_ where she would play the lively notes too fast to where she'd make mistakes by hitting a sour note every so often- _Nocturne No. 2 in E Flat Major_ by Chopin was something Ophelia could play without flaw.

Ophelia figured Tom would prefer that she play something at precise and perfect in his company.

He did. In the orphanage Tom was told to refer as 'home' the luxury of having a piano was not available there. Music from the radio played often, but it was always cut out by a warning or by news of the war A war, Tom honestly could care less about it. _Muggle wars,_ Tom would think as he would also remember his blood was one of the purest in the magic world. _Muggle problems, not my problem and not my war._

Tom Riddle was neither sympathetic or empathetic to think that Ophelia Darwin did see it as a problem: her family lived, worked, and raised her in a muggle world.

Tom placed the hand that was closest to Ophelia on the top of her knee; Ophelia flinched at the cold touch of his slender hands but continued to play on the piano.

Out of a sensation that could only be a mix of curiosity and lust, Tom sneaked his hand towards Ophelia's skirt and rested his hand on her inner thigh. He couldn't help but smirk at this; the Hufflepuff's skin became covered in goosebumps just by his touch.

Ophelia played the piano, the song by Chopin was starting to sound distorted as she played it at an unusual pace. It had been a while since she and Tom had been intimate, Ophelia didn't know if she want end up under the handsome Slytherin.

 _It's not like we haven't already slept together...I mean_ , Ophelia thought to herself as she only played Chopin's song slower and slower. _It wouldn't hurt to try someone else...to see if that's what I want? Right?_

Tom started to use his pointer finger to rub against the fabric of her underwear, a specific spot where he knew her clit was.

This caused Ophelia to gasp, completely stop playing on the piano, and jump away from Tom's touch. In a hurried mess, Ophelia grabbed her things and practically sprinted away from the Slytherin prefect.

Tom felt...rejected. _Is that what this is?_ He frowned because he realized he did not like that feeling-not one fucking bit.

Ophelia on the other hand had made up her mind about something she didn't even put much thought into. _Tonight for sure,_ she told herself. _I'll do it tonight._

* * *

"Anyone seen Pipa?" Margo asked with a small crease in her forehead as she flipped through a muggle notebook called a 'Wedding Calendar Planner'. Margo flipped through the pages, all blank. "I want her to show me how this works-there are no plans in here."

Peter sighed. "If you didn't ask your Mum for a muggle planner you wouldn't be so upset right now, would you?" Peter Elwood had been noticeably irritable since his first final of the week; he had terrible test anxiety.

"Oh, but muggle weddings seem to have a charm that wizarding and magic weddings don't!" Margo tried to find one perfect to describe what she meant but she couldn't. The Blaine witch had only ever been to other marriages of other witches and wizards in high pure-blood society and each wedding was an arranged marriage.

 _Muggle weddings just seem so….Oh, I'll never find the word._ Margo pouted and turned her attention to the seventh year with terrible table manners. "William, have you seen Pipa?"

"No." William Zolotov lied straight to the platinum blonde witch's face. "At least not since this morning at breakfast."

The Russian wizard was a terribly great liar; he grew up as a young boy in a terribly nice manner with lavished and wonderful things. To this day, William still maintains that the old family cat swallowed his mother's engagement ring (he was five and wanted to see what would happened if he threw his Mummy's favorite ring into a fire), he also still maintains that his Father's favorite wrist watch is probably lost somewhere in their manner in Russia (even though, William wears it all the time in Hogwarts and never at home.)

Peter narrowed his eyes at William. "You sure?"

William Zolotov did see Ophelia. In fact, he saw her right before he headed towards the Grand Hall for dinner.

The half-blooded witch was in a lip lock with a certain French wizard, William saw them pull away from each other and head towards the Ravenclaw's tower.

His eyes met with Ophelia's for a brief second and he nearly laughed when he saw the wide eyed look of disgust on her face.

William placed a finger over his lips and winked at his friend; a gesture which meant he wasn't judging Ophelia nor was he going to run mouth about what he saw.

Ophelia smiled at her friend, she too put a finger over her lips and winked back at William. It was officially a little secret for now.

"I've already told you," William finally answered Peter's question. "I haven't seen Pipa since breakfast, alright?" He easily changed the subject, "You need to relax, Peter. How'd you do on your finals?"

Peter ranted on for nearly an hour about how he was sure he answered every question wrong on every test he took so far.

Margo sat quietly, content to look at the blank pages of her wedding calendar planner.

* * *

"You don't think we're maybe moving too fast?" Edmund asked in between kisses.

"No." Ophelia replied as captured the Ravenclaw's lips for another series of kisses.

Edmund's hand roamed over Ophelia's body, they were lying down on his bed: him on the bottom and her comfortably on top of him. The deep navy blue canopy of his bed concealed them from the emptiness of his dorm room.

Ophelia's skirt was off her body as was her blouse, robe, and bra. Edmund was all the way naked.

Each kiss felt urgent and feverish and Edmund enjoyed the soft feel of Ophelia on top of him; his roaming hands settled on Ophelia's backside and gave it a squeeze. The Hufflepuff in response pressed herself into his pelvic region, where she felt Edmund's erection, and began to gyrate against him.

Edmund pulled away from the heavy kiss and let out a heavy sigh. He would have never guess that the Hufflepuff, not even when he met her when she was drunk, would ever be so forward about sex.

"Are you sure you want this, Ophelia?" Edmund whispered into her ear, he placed a hand on her forehead so he pushed her mousy brown hair out of her face. "We don't have to do this, you know."

Ophelia didn't really feel like wanting to talk much, even though she did enjoy speaking to Edmund normally. Ophelia only nodded her head to confirm it as a 'yes'. She leaned in again for a kiss, but she made sure it was a light peck.

 _Oh, Merlin._ Edmund took that answer without asking Ophelia twice. The ashy blonde male had quick reflexes, he easily flipped the position they were in to wear he was now on top of Ophelia. The Ravenclaw placed multiple kisses on the nape of the Hufflepuff's neck, slowly the kisses went from the nape of her neck to her breast, to her flat stomach, then finally right above her underwear.

Edmund nearly tore the undergarment off Ophelia's body. A surprised gasp escaped Ophelia's lips and Edmund just bought himself up to face her.

"Ready?"

 _He talks an awful lot._..Ophelia thought but she didn't necessarily think it was too bad. It was more of an observation. She felt Edmund enter her and a gasp that sounded like pleasure echoed between their bodies.

At first Edmund's thrusts into Ophelia started slow but eventually he started thrust deep and fast into her, his hands still roamed over her, particularly squeezing her breast.

Contended moans filled the spaces around them, Edmund began to pump into Ophelia faster. Ophelia curled her toes and wrapped her arms around the Ravenclaw's neck, kissing Edmund as if her life depended on.

"Are you close?" Edmund broke away from the kiss. His voice husky and smooth

Ophelia never heard him sound like that before. A shaky moan somehow allowed her to answer. "...Yes...so close…" Ophelia bit on her bottom lip hard, she almost called out a name.

A name that wasn't Edmund's.

"Fuck…" Edmund had released into the pretty witch. His well built body nearly collapsed on top of Ophelia's body. Before Edmund removed himself from Ophelia he placed a kiss on her forehead and laid down next to her.

"Enjoy yourself?" Ophelia teased lightly.

"Very much so." Edmund chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Ophelia and drew her close to him.

Ophelia didn't say anything after that. She laid still and listened to Edmund's breathing-after nearly forty five minutes, the Hufflepuff realized he'd fallen asleep.

With as much control she could muster in every muscle in her body, Ophelia made sure she gathered her clothes and got dressed quietly so she wouldn't distress Edmund.

Ophelia made her way to the Hufflepuff Basement without running into anyone who would have questioned where she was for the past hour or so. The brunette tossed herself into a shower; she wanted the smell of heat and intimacy off her.

The Hufflepuff closed her eyes as the hot water sprinkled onto her skin and into her hair, making her head feel heavy.

Tom Riddle drifted in her mind and the thought of him stayed with Ophelia Darwin throughout the whole night.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I also do not own the classical music pieces listed in this chapter. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice.

Guys, I am so sorry that I took longer than usual to update! I have an weird work schedule now where my hours have been so hectic lately and I only get one day off so far. Sorry about the wait! I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible.

Hopefully, you guys enjoy the chapter. I want to say thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. It shows me that people are interested this story and that I should continue. Please,please,please leave some reviews if you can! Thank you!

* * *

December 15, 1943

Tom Riddle glared down at the two Slytherins in front of him. A scowl was on his face as his eyes narrowed with a harsh expression. "Repeat that again, now."

Abraxas Malfoy and Graham Nott had been talking about something they overheard from the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. They had forgotten Tom was in the common room, he'd been deathly quiet studying.

Malfoy steadily calmed himself before he addressing the Slytherin heir. "My Lord, I am sure those we were rumors we overheard." Malfoy kept cool and relaxed. "It really doesn't matter what some feathered brain wizards said."

 _Wrong answer_. Tom turned his attention to the weaker link of the two. "Nott, speak."

When a dog is told 'bark' it will bark. When Nott is told 'speak' by Tom, he didn't even hesitate. Nott's mind did reel on where and when to start to appease the Dark Lord. "We were in the library and we overheard some chatter from a couple of Ravenclaws." Nott scratched the bottom of his chin. "They all seemed to be talking about studying like mad this week and one of them went on to talk about how nice a before winter holiday shag would be. Then Campion spoke up saying he already had his before winter holiday shag and Campion also said maybe if he was lucky enough, he'd even get a shag in during winter holiday."

Malfoy closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, but even with Malfoy's eyes closed anyone could tell they were rolling behind his eyelids. _This idiot._

Tom Riddle listened carefully to what Nott has said and began to break it down slowly. Tom soon saw images of Edmund Campion's hands on Ophelia's body; the image of Campion's lips on Ophelia's; the image of Campion on top Ophelia.

A tight anger started to root in Tom's chest and soon rendered his limbs stiff. The heir of Slytherin slowly clenched his fists, and a rather primitive thought came to mind but he liked the idea.

Tom wanted to feel Edmund Campion's blood on his hands.

* * *

Peter Elwood got out of his Arithmancy tests feeling as if ten years worth of headaches decided to visit him all at once. Peter ran his hand through his brown hair and let a groan. He was glad though, it meant that his testing was over for now.

The sixth year Hufflepuff did have to make one final stop before he could claim his day was completely over: the kitchen.

Margo had promised that all Peter had to do was pick up a picnic basket worth of food before he went off to the Herbology greenhouse. The past two days the group of friends had been having dinner in the greenhouse.

Ophelia had been adamant on not eating in the Grand Hall (she didn't explain why-she just didn't want to). Margo didn't want to eat in the common room (the Blaine heiress didn't want to eat there because they're always in common room, it seems). While William was against eating dinner in the Divination room (Margo asked to eat dinner there and he just hated being in the Divination classroom.)

Peter Elwood had been the one to state (not suggest, but _state_ ) they gather to eat dinner in the Herbology greenhouse. Madame Roseweed wouldn't even mind nor would she notice.

"Oi," Peter called out as he carried the picnic basket filled with food towards a group of three Hufflepuffs relaxing on a large, thick, pale, apricot colored quilt. "I got dinner."

William had been sitting down with his legs crossed on the quilt. "Thank you, Merlin! I was wondering if you'd ever arrive."

Margo had stood up from the quilt and walked towards Peter, she offered a hand out to him. "Thank you, Peter. Let me set up."

The only friend who didn't react verbally to Peter was Ophelia. The half-blooded witch had made herself comfortable on the quilt, she had been lying flat on her stomach, _**pretending**_ to read _Hamlet._ Ophelia lost interest and sense of direction of where the book was going when it emphasized mirrors and she hadn't even seen her name in the book yet.

A light yawn escaped Ophelia's lips as she continued to pretend to read the works of William Shakespeare.

"Pipa." Peter had noticed that Ophelia hadn't move to set a plate for herself. "Food." Elwood didn't want to make a comment on how the half-blooded witch hadn't been much the past few days, but Merlin, did he want to!

 _Pipa's not a glutton like William but she usually loves dinner._ Peter grabbed a dish of potted shrimps out of Margo's hands and placed it close to Ophelia; potted shrimps were Ophelia's favorite.

The brunette Hufflepuff didn't react to the potted shrimps. Instead she picked her wand out of her robe pocket and gave it a precise swish in the air. A plate with some grapes, a few apple slices, and two biscuits assembled together before floating towards Ophelia.

"Thanks, Pete." Ophelia mumbled as she started to chew on a few grapes.

Peter only rolled his eyes and decided to play dumb for a little while longer. He moved his interest to Margo. "How are the wedding preparations?"

Margo smiled and gestured to over to Ophelia. "Pretty good, Pipa taught me how to use the muggle wedding planner."

William Zolotov stopped munching on a turkey leg to cut into the conversation. "Summer wedding on the Blaine manor backyard." William rolled his eyes, "I told both of them a wedding on the countryside would be better."

Ophelia chuckled at that. "William, when you get married you can have your wedding on the countryside." She popped another grape into her mouth.

Easily, Margo then added in. " _If_ you ever get married, that is."

"Ha-ha-ha." William looked in the picnic basket and narrowed his eyes. "There's no drinks?"

Margo sighed and rolled her eyes at Peter. "I thought I told you to get some refreshments, Peter."

The Elwood heir shrugged but straightened his posture out as he stood up. "I'll go to the kitchen and get some pumpkin juice." Peter looked over to Ophelia. "Pipa, give me a hand."

A small groan escaped a escape from Ophelia. "If I must." She picked herself up from off the ground and dusted off the imaginary dust that was on her.

Peter was going to get to the bottom of why Ophelia seemed less engaged and rather dodgy.

There was not even half a minute of silence when Peter started to pry.

"Okay," Peter went off. "Spill it, Pipa."

"Spill it?" Ophelia cracked something that was sort of a smartass reply (sort of-it was more corny). "Spill what, the pumpkin juice you didn't bring?"

Peter shot the half-blooded witch a side glance as he shoved an elbow into Ophelia's side. "If I _didn't_ know you the way I do, I'd take that seriously but I know you too well."

Ophelia merely stuck her tongue out at Peter much like siblings would do to each other when bickering.

"Yes, very mature." Peter mocked, now he was rolling his eyes at her.

"There's nothing to tell, Peter." Ophelia lied to her friend as they continued on.

Peter knew full well that was bullshit. If someone, wasn't eating dinner and was in a piss poor mood: something was going on. "Pipa, don't lie to me." Peter's voice was a strange mix of firm demand while still being friendly. "I'll drag Will and Margo into this if you do want to play the lying game."

Ophelia narrowed her eyes at the Elwood heir. "You wouldn't."

Peter smiled at the Darwin girl. "You want to bet?"

 _No, no, I don't want to bet!_ Ophelia huffed and her face turned a slight red color. She was going to have to tell Peter. "I'll tell you, but this stays between us."

Peter nodded, "Of course, of course."

"No." Ophelia wanted to make sure her friend understood what she meant. "I mean this stays only between you and I. 'Us' in this instance not mean: you, me, Will, and Margo." Ophelia pointed to Peter, "Only you." She then pointed to herself, "and me."

Peter blinked at the very specific detail. "Okay, fine. Got it."

Ophelia sighed and closed her eyes for a brief second. Never did it occur to Ophelia that one day, she was going to have a conversation with Peter about sleeping with Margo's half-brother, but hey, there she was...telling Peter exactly that.

"So you and Campion slept together?" Peter had the common sense to keep his voice low; he didn't see why or how that would put someone in a bad mood. Sex was nice...Unless it wasn't enjoyable for both parties? Peter asked his next question. "Was it bad?"

Ophelia shrugged. "It was okay, I guess...He spoke a lot." Her initial hesitation to tell Peter about it faded away. It felt nice to tell at least one person what she'd done.

Ophelia never realized how little she actually told her friends about certain things that went on around and for a while, much to a point where all lies were just "little white lies" and guilt only lasted about for maybe half-second.

"Well, do you like Campion?" The Elwood heir asked. "We all just assumed you liked him because you went on a date with him, so maybe I should be asking is if you still like him?"

"I've been avoiding Edmund since I've slept with him." Ophelia stated tiredly. _I've also been staying clear of Tom, but you don't know anything about that...I'll spare you those details._

Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, Pipa." They were inside the kitchen by this point. "I'm not one to judge and I am glad you told me this, but avoiding him might not make anything easier for you."

Ophelia grabbed grabbed some cups while Peter went ahead got a jug of pumpkin juice.

"I'd just rather not have to deal with anything extra today, Peter." Ophelia mumbled, she had to admit that Peter did have a point though.

"Fine," Peter knew he couldn't force Ophelia to do anything, not like he would ever want to force her into doing anything. He did see an advantage pop up from this conversation between the two of them. "However, when we get back to the greenhouse you need to eat more than just grapes. Put some real food into your system for Merlin's sake!"

Ophelia smiled. "Maybe."

"Oh, you little shite." Peter smirked.

The two had come to an understanding and not much else needed to be said. Though they should have planned their route better, the kitchen was directly under the Grand Hall, where two people Ophelia was avoiding would be present.

* * *

Edmund Campion looked over to the Hufflepuff table during dinner in the Grand Hall, no expression on his face gave away if he was sad, happy, or confused or irritated. He features stayed neutral.

He took note of the space where Ophelia and his half-sister usual sat and saw it was empty again. There was also no sign of Zolotov or Elwood either. Campion turned his attention back to his Quidditch team mates as the continued to review and quiz each other for tomorrow's tests.

For a brief moment, Selene Sharpe made eye contact with him and waved gently over at him from the other side of the Ravenclaw table. Edmund weakly waved back at her before turning his head to look in a different direction: towards the Slytherin dining table.

Edmund Campion easily spotted Tom Riddle. Finally a stern frown came on Edmund's face; it showed disdain towards the Slytherin prefect.

It was clear the Ravenclaw did not like the Slytherin and it was sure that the Slytherin did not care for the Ravenclaw at all.

Lestrange caught the Ravenclaw staring in their direction. "My Lord?" His voice was one volume too loud to be considered a whisper. "Someone from the Ravenclaw table is staring particularly hard in your direction."

"Is that right?" Tom's voice was rough and dangerous, he was still very irritable since Nott shared some interesting gossip with him. The heir of Slytherin turned around and locked his sights easily onto Campion. A string of Unforgivable Curses appeared in Tom's mind as he thought of hurting Edmund.

The French wizard was thinking the same thing. Campion hated how Tom acted he owned everyone; much more, Campion loathed how Tom even claimed that he did own Ophelia.

The two boys would have been glad to glare and wish death and harm on the other but a nudge on the shoulder pulled Tom out of it.

Nott pointed towards the doors of the Grand Hall. "Miss Darwin, my Lord."

Tom stood up without a sound as he saw Ophelia walk past and away from the Grand Hall; he didn't care that Peter Elwood was present with her. He needed to talk to that filthy witch now. The handsome young man stood up and made his way to the Hufflepuff witch.

Edmund quickly followed closely behind Tom when he saw what exactly he was going after.

"Ophelia!" Tom tried to keep his voice calm, smooth, and charming for appearances sake but his voice came out sounding angry, urgent, and heavy. "I need to speak to you now!"

Peter Elwood was shocked at the rather rough tone Riddle spoke. He was even more bothered by the fact that Ophelia's pace went from a walk to a slight jog at the sound of his voice. "Pipa? We can stop and talk to Riddle if you want."

"I don't want to talk to Riddle, Peter." Ophelia hissed calmly to her friend. "Please, let's just go back to William and Margo."

Another set of footsteps joined in. They were Edmund's. "Ophelia, we need to talk please."

A groan escaped from the half-blooded witch's mouth. "This is not happening to me right now." She almost broke into a run.

"Pipa," Peter was starting to worry. "Do we need to both stop and talk to them?"

"No." Ophelia nearly yelled her answer. "Let's keep going."

Peter sensed something was wrong but it was just Riddle and Campion. How harmful could the situation be? He rooted his feet firmly to the ground, with the free hand that didn't hold the jug of juice, he gently gripped his friend's shoulder and stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Peter." Ophelia's voice was trembling. "I want to keep walking!"

Something was terribly wrong...Peter didn't know why Ophelia was reacting this way. "Look, I won't let them overwhelm you. Let's just see what they want to talk to you about, eh? Calm down."

Ophelia was not going to calm down but she supposed if she could trust anyone's words or promise, she could trust Peter Elwood.

"Riddle, Campion." Peter was the first to acknowledge the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw. "Good evening."

"Elwood," Edmund was quick to get to the point, as he usually was. "Could I have a minute to speak to Miss Darwin?"

Peter carefully threw a side glance at Ophelia; he wasn't her keeper. _He could talk to her directly, why doesn't he?_ Peter directed the conversation towards Ophelia. "Pipa, do you want to chat?"

Tom couldn't roll his eyes, he instead looked at the female Hufflepuff and to rub salt into Campion's ego; Tom gently lifted a hand to Ophelia's face and laced his fingers carefully into her hair. "Ophelia, could we have a moment?"

 _What the fuck?!_ Peter's eyes widened at the sight of Tom practically caressing Ophelia's face. _Wait…_. Peter then saw the look of anger bubble up to Campion's features; then snapped his gaze back to Riddle and Ophelia. _Wait...What?!_

"Now isn't a great time to talk you guys." Ophelia took a step back from Tom; she saw the angry look on Edmund's face. "Sorry, Edmund. I'll have to catch up with you later."

Tom didn't like how Ophelia said that. _You'll catch up with him later? Him?_ The heir of Slytherin didn't relent. He also took a step closer to her, "Ophelia, I need to talk to you _now_."

"No, Riddle." Ophelia was leaving Tom, Edmund, and even Peter behind her as her jogging pace started to accelerate. "I have to go."

 _You are not going anywhere!_ Tom would have went on, walking after Ophelia like an animal in pursuit of its meal, had someone not yank his shoulder back and landed a punch square on his jaw.

A loud crack echoed through the hall, it caused Ophelia to whip her body around and look at the commotion going on behind her.

Peter's eyes went wide. _Someone just hit Hogwarts' golden boy!_ He didn't know if he was supposed to cheer 'fight, fight, fight' like a usual teen or if he was supposed to be rational and grab a professor. _Peteris! Be responsible!_ He placed the jug of pumpkin juice gently to floor before running off in search of a Professor.

"She said she had to go." Edmund spat out. He was a slight disappointed when he realized that his punch didn't leave any bruising. "Stop acting like you own her!"

Tom didn't say anything to Edmund. No witty come back with a dark meaning; no promises of harm; nothing. Instead, the handsome young man balled his fist up and returned a favor. Tom landed a punch square on Edmund's left eye.

"No!" Ophelia screamed. _Merlin, look what you've started Ophelia!_ Her palms started to feel sweaty as she tried to process what happened.

Never did it ever occur to anyone, Ophelia specifically, that Tom would ever retaliate with physical strength in a fight.

Edmund stumbled back, hands over the left side of his face. " _Enculer_!"

Ophelia might not have known French, but she had a good guess as to what Edmund meant. She had no good guesses, however as to what would happen next. "Knock it off! Both of you!"

They either weren't able to hear Ophelia's yelled command or they ignored her. Edmund pulled out his wand and pointed it at Tom.

The urge to run and hide blossomed in Ophelia's senses-but instead she decided to stay put. She yelled again, louder than the first time. "I said knock it off! Put your wand away!"

"You'll regret living if you really dare point your wand at me." Tom snapped as he then pulled out his wand and steadied it towards the Ravenclaw student.

Edmund was brilliant and quick but he _didn't_ have a real fighting chance against Tom.

Tom knew it, Ophelia knew it.

Ophelia's heart slinked down from her chest, down and deep into the pit of her stomach; she immediately dropped the cups that she held in her arms and her eyes widened in fear. She had to do _something._

It happened in slow motion. It happened unexpectedly. It happened without any thought on Ophelia's part.

" _Bombarda Maxima!_ "

A loud boom whipped violently through the halls; the glass jug of pumpkin juice on the floor shattered into crude, jagged shards. A great force of pressure surrounded the two young men to a point where it rammed both of them violently into hard and sturdy walls of the hallways. A crack at least twelve feet long and two feet wide was now decorated on the floor; not to mention there were slight dents in the walls as well.

Ophelia's dull green eyes scanned her surrounds; Tom was down and Edmund was down. The sound of a crowd rushing to the source of the commotion echoed through the hallways.

A mixture of loud clamouring flooded into Ophelia's ears but she wasn't exactly listening.

"Is that Tom?"

"Campion! Campion! Mate, are you alright?"

"Who spilt a jug of pumpkin juice?"

"Why are Riddle and Campion out cold?"

"Wait...Is that Darwin?"

"Her wand is out."

"She's only a half-blood, you know. Maybe a spell went wrong on her part."

"Such a half-blood thing to do."

"Pipa!" That was Peter's voice, it was frantic. "Pipa! What happened?"

Peter's voice brought her out of a daze. The gears resumed to work in her head and something 'clicked' back to work.

"I...I…" Ophelia lost her grip on her wand; she brought her hands to the sides of her face and gripped at the roots of her hair. There were no answers pouring from her mouth. No little lies to tell. She didn't even try to tell the truth, because who would believe her?

"Pipa?" Peter was worried. He searched around the crowd, it was getting bigger. Peter wondered if grabbing the first adult he found was a bad idea.

Armando Dippet stood out among the students trying to piece what was going on. Two of the most promising students of Hogwarts knocked out in the middle of the hall, and one Hufflepuff.

Armando Dippet already knew who was to blame and in his mind, it was the pretty brunette who just happened to be a half-blood.

Ophelia closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She doubted Dumbledore or anyone else could help her out of the mess she created in order to avoid the even bigger mess that would have been had Tom and Edmund kept on.

* * *

December 16, 1943

Expulsion means to deprive someone of either a place, an organization, or of a membership. Expulsion in Ophelia Darwin's case meant leaving Hogwarts before the week was out.

The brunette witch had all her belongings packed and ready; she only needed two suitcases as she only taking what she needed. Save of course her Hogwarts uniform. Her daffodil colored shoes were on her feet. A thick, floor length, pale butterscotch dirndl skirt covered Ophelia's legs; Ophelia paired it with a white utility blouse and yellow spots.

"Thank you, Margo." Ophelia whispered to the Blaine heiress who combed and pulled her brown hair into a low, braided bun.

"You're still coming to my engagement party, right?" Margo's voice was braking. "Or even if you can't come, you'll still be in contact with me?"

"Of course!" Ophelia frowned at the notion of falling out of touch with her best friend. "I'd never want to lose contact with you."

Margo couldn't say much else on that. She wanted to focus on something happier. "If you do manage to come to my engagement party, I'll have a custom made dress for you. I'd even let you take a dip in the Blaine family jewelry chest." The platinum blonde witch sighed. "We better get you to Hogsmeade on time."

Peter and William helped Ophelia by carrying her suitcases.

"If your Poppa is running late," Peter started. "You can hang out in my grandparent's shop."

"I have a running tab at the Three Broomsticks." William added on. "If you and your Poppa want a grab to eat before going back to Muggle world."

"No." Ophelia shook her head; her arms were linked with Margo's as they walked. "It'll be fine. Thanks though." The half-blooded witch really had no appetite now. Facing the possible wrath of her mother had that effect on her.

The group of friend's walked over to the town square of Hogsmeade; an elderly man sitting on a bench with a canary red winter coat and a matching canary red Bowler hat.

The old man waved at his granddaughter and stood up to greet her friends. "Peter and William, you're two are getting fat. Margo, always a pleasure." Gregory Darwin sighed and looked at his granddaughter, "Say your goodbyes, Pipa."

William was the first Ophelia hugged. "Loser." He said as they hugged.

Ophelia felt a sinking feeling pool around her. "I know, William. I'm sorry."

Peter was next but neither he nor Ophelia spoke as they hugged. The former Hufflepuff's eyes started to burn as a few tears ran down her cheeks.

By the time Ophelia went to Margo, both girls broke down into sobbing messes.

"Alright," Gregory Darwin urged. "Time to go. You three best be off so you don't get late for your classes."

Heavy tears ran violently down Ophelia's face as she watched her three friends walk away. _No more Hogwarts...No more magic...No more of anything.._

Ophelia didn't take notice of a young man, who sneaked out of the infirmary to see her leave.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I also do not own the classical music pieces listed in this chapter. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible.

Again, I am so terribly sorry about the late updates and how it seems I don't have a set date as to when I post new chapter. I know before I moved I had to upload a new story late on Sunday nights. Now, unfortunately I hardly have any spare time on Sundays. Guys, I am so sorry about that. Sorry about the wait!

Hopefully, you guys enjoy the chapter. I want to say thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. It shows me that people are interested this story and that I should continue. Please,please,please leave some reviews if you can! Thank you!

* * *

December 23, 1943

Wendy Darwin was not happy but she could not feel too disappointed. She tried to keep her negative comments to herself about Ophelia's expulsion, as per her husband's request. She also had to keep calm and strong. Ophelia was the only child Wendy had and she couldn't afford to lash out at the only person who gave her the joy of becoming a mother. The middle aged woman with fading, dishwater blonde hair rushed to get ingredients to make pancakes for breakfast-a task that kept her busy from putting guilt and pressure on her daughter.

Ben Darwin, who was more aware of his wife's emotions better than anyone quietly sipped his tea and pretended to read the quaint, uneventful newspaper of West Berkshire (he had already read through all the news about the war.)

"Are you going to tell me why you're too quiet this early in the morning."

Wendy rolled her brown eyes at her husband. "Pipa is still sleeping and if she still insists on going to that engagement party of Margo's, who knows how late and how long she'll be out."

Ben lowered the newspaper that obscured his vision from seeing his wife hustle about in their kitchen. His green eyes, just a slight bit brighter than the other green eyed member in the house, followed Wendy around as she did...whatever she did in the kitchen. "Alright, that's fine. Though why are you even in the kitchen so early? You hate cooking breakfast."

"I may hate cooking breakfast but growing children need to eat." Wendy promptly replied as she began to get the batter for pancakes sorted.

Ben ran a hand through his graying hair, it was an odd shade of brown with specks of white mixed in there. "Wendy, your daughter is a hop and skip away adulthood. I don't think she qualifies as a growing child anymore."

Wendy has not having any of that. "Pipa is asleep in my house, in the bedroom I decorated, with a closet I organized for her. As far as I am concerned, she is a growing child until she is out of my house."

The head of the house, only sighed and went back to pretending to read his boring newspaper. _Technically_ , Ben thought quietly to himself. _It's my house..._

Ophelia Darwin was not asleep in bed, she had already been up for nearly three hours before anyone else. She just stayed in bed. It felt odd to hear the distant voices of her parents instead of waking up to Margo lecture her on how she needed to be to class on time.

A chorus of knocks echoed on the door. "Pipa?" It was her Poppa. "Are you decent?"

Ophelia kicked her blankets off her body, revealing that she was indeed decent. The former Hufflepuff student was already dressed in a plain and simple, long sleeved tea dress with a pale blue shade to it. She paired it with black stockings underneath.

The pale green eyed teen opened her bedroom door, "Hey Poppa."

"Office, please." Gregory Darwin walked over to a blank space in the wall; he drew his wand out and drew his initials on the wall: G.D. In split second, a deep red, four panel door appeared on the wall. The eldest member of the Darwin family opened the door and gestured for his granddaughter to follow him him.

Ophelia liked being in Poppa's office, it smelled faintly of mint and oolong tea. She never knew why, but it suited her grandfather either way. Ophelia sat herself on a gray ottoman that did not at all match the deep purple recliner that it was often paired with.

Poppa took to his bookshelf, pulling and tossing books carelessly on a thick rug to mute the sound of a harsh 'bang' with every book he threw down. He remembered how much his granddaughter hated that noise.

Ophelia waited for her Poppa to stop tossing books about to ask her question. There was a total of ten books scattered over the rug. "What's all this? Are we bringing back bedtime stories?" The brunette inched the ottoman she sat on closer to mess of books and grabbed the one with most interesting cover. " _Magic In Lesser Known Regions of the World_?" Ophelia arched an eyebrow at the book, sat it down, then reached for a different book. " _Natural Healing of the First Nation People in the Americas_." _What a mouthful,_ Ophelia frowned at the title and went on to a third book. " _Powerful Superstitions, Charms and Curses in the Pacific_?"

Gregory Darwin couldn't help but smile. He loved to make Pipa guess as to what was going on. "Well? What do you think?"

Ophelia started to flip through the book she held in her hands. "What I think…" She saw a picture in the book move. It showed a wrinkled old woman, bare chested and wearing a skirt of some kind, walking towards a stream of water and emerging herself into the water. Ophelia flipped the page and the next picture revealed a much younger and even more beautiful woman walking out of the water. The former Hufflepuff closed the book and looked at her grandfather carefully. "I think these books are….Interesting."

Poppa smiled, "I am glad you're interested in these books."

Ophelia smiled at her Poppa. "Were these yours-."

He interrupted the teen from speaking. "You have five months to finish reading all these books, I expect two books per month won't be too hard. After five months is up, you will take everything you have learned from these books and apply them to real life!" A glint of excitement flared up in the old man's eyes. He'd never got to see the world, but maybe that fate didn't have to land on Ophelia.

"What?" Ophelia nearly screamed, she wasn't sure she heard right. "Why? How come?"

With such a calm and authoritative voice, Gregory Darwin easily replied to back to his granddaughter. "There is more than one way for you to learn about magic Ophelia. You don't need Hogwarts, or Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons, or any other fancy castle, rooted on secret grounds to learn about magic."

 _Oh, Margo is going to get a kick out of this._ Ophelia looked for a clock in her grandfather's office, she couldn't find one but she supposed she only had roughly eleven more hours to go until Margo's engagement party.

"I mean it!" Gregory Darwin could feel that Ophelia was not taking him seriously. "You think breathing in stale air and roaming through pretty corridors is the only way to learn anything? I loved Hogwarts, so, so much! Though there is always more to learn and different places and ways to learn magic."

Ophelia was not one to yell at her Poppa, but the old man still deserved an answer. "That was the only way I've been taught to learn." She shook her head in subtle manner; she was confused by that statement not angered or challenged by it. "I can't unlearn that something that…" Flashes of her first through sixth year zoomed in her head, as if someone selected clips of her time in Hogwarts and violently pressed fast forward.

While her friends' faces were in there, Tom Riddle's face would burst random in her memory. His dark, sometimes almost sinister eyes boring in her mind's eye as if he could see her in that very moment. It burned her esteem, and hurt her soul how little Tom regarded her.

Slowly at first, then fast the next: emotions from differents scales flooded Ophelia's senses.

 _I would have never gotten in this mess if I had just stayed away from Tom-fucking-Riddle!_

 _I should have liked Edmund! Why couldn't I have liked Edmund?_

 _I could have been a much better student if I paid more attention to my studies and if I wasn't damn occupied with please Tom!_

 _Merlin, why the fuck did I spend so much time and effort and wasted affection on...On Tom!?_

 _What the sodding hell, Ophelia! What did you think was going to happen?_

 _Did you hope Tom Riddle would suddenly snap and appreciate you for you? Call you his? Put a ring on your finger and you'd get married?...Christ, Ophelia, you can be such a fool!_

"You know what, Poppa?" Ophelia's voice sounded hoarse, as if she spent a whole two days and nights crying. There were no tears or proof that she'd been crying in the moment Ophelia had realized she meant shit all to Tom. "I can't unlearn something, but maybe I could learn something different."

Gregory Darwin smiled, then panicked briefly before happily chucking that dreadful sense of worry to the ground. _Ah, I'm sure Wendy and Ben won't mind if we took a trip to America after winter holiday._

Ophelia decided to hold off on telling Margo anything for now.

* * *

Peter Elwood was jealous and somewhat of nervous ball dressed in a nicely fitted (but uncomfortable new) light brown suit. It was a given he'd be nervous because who knew exactly how the night was going to end and who exactly would be engaged to Margo. Peter swallowed a quick shot of water as he was worried if there was correct time the Blaine heiress wanted everyone to start drinking.

The main reason as to why Peter Elwood was jealous was because it had been at least two hours, and nearly a week since he got to see Margo and Ophelia had been spending time with the beautiful blonde witch.

"I didn't even get time to ask Pipa to scramble up some answers!" The brunette male told the Russian wizard, who sat next to him in the parlour room of the Blaine manor.

William helped himself to the best champagne he thought tasted decent enough to start the night. The Russian still had at least twelve different champagne brands to try. "Pete, you didn't even get time to tell Pipa what questions to ask so you could get your answers." William couldn't help but feel unexplainably giddy, he had reasons to!

For one, the Russian wizard looked amazing in his dusty purple and well structured suit. Two: he knew good and well there was going to be some damn great food. Three: Margo was going to engaged. Four: Peter was going to perfectly fine. Five: Pipa was back! Six: Margo's mom said that if they behaved and everything went fine, they could all stay the night.

William Zolotov was sure this night was going to be amazing for members involved.

"Here." The seventh year student started to pour a glass of champagne for Peter. "Start pregaming."

Peter huffed but took the fancy glass of champagne out of William's hands and began to chug the liquid like it was flavorless as water.

Ophelia looked in awe of her best friend. She smiled as Vanessa Gought-Blaine continued to finish up on Margo's look for the night. Already, the loud music and random chatter of guests could be heard so effortlessly. The former Hufflepuff student sipped the wine that Margo's mother insist she try. It tasted exactly like peaches.

"You look lovely, Margo." Ophelia took note of Margo's stunning white dress: the corset bodice was beaded with golden beads which did not fade into to bottom of her ball gown style dress. Margo's hair was let down and curled, instead of being pinned up and pulled into a series of tight braids or buns.

Margo smiled over at her friend. "Do I really?" She wasn't trying to fish for more complements but it was more that the first time of her life: Margo did not feel confident in her skin. "I don't look too much?"

"A child of mine? Too much?" Vanessa teased her daughter as she stepped back to admire Margo's look for the night. "Darling, there is no such thing as too much."

"You look positively beautiful." Ophelia put the recently empty glass of wine down and walked over to Margo. Her hand was faced palm up to Margo. "Shall we?"

Margo took her friend's hand and squeezed tight. "Let's go. I have a fiance to impress."

 _There,_ Ophelia could have laughed. _That's the Margo Blaine I know._

* * *

Tom Riddle was a smart man, he would and could make things happen how he wanted them to and when he wanted them to. He relaxed in his chair as he watched the guest and host of this special event.

The heir of Slytherin leaned over to the more competent of his lackies. "Any word on who she is to marry, Malfoy?"

Abraxas only shrugged as they watched the beautiful pureblood descend down a long staircase. "I'm wondering how you still got invited with Campion here."

"I happen to be very well liked with the purebloods in our school." Tom replied confidently. He wasn't paying too much attention to what was being announced from the gentleman, who Tom assumed was Margo Blaine's father. "Miss Blaine seems to enjoy my company more than that of her half-brother."

Tom's brown eyes scanned around the massive room him and bunch of other witches and wizards. Admittedly, Tom was not the best dressed wizard out and about the Blaine manor with only a plain black suit but he was probably the most handsome wizard present. He overheard chatter from some older, white headed witches that the possible descendant of Hufflepuff might make an appearance. _How exciting._

Malfoy was more attentive to what was going on. Margaret Blaine really was a sight to see; all dressed in white and standing nervously to find out who her husband would be.

Lestrange whispered over to Rosier. "I almost wished I could be getting engaged."

Rosier rolled his eyes. "I really pity the poor woman who has to marry you and put up with your…" Rosier had to think of the word. "Well, you. I pity the woman who has to marry you."

Nott's eyes scanned the area, looking for a pleasant body to rest his sights on. He found a familiar brunette he spoke to once. Her hair was pinned up in a low, twisted bun with an elegant hair bun pin attached. "Is that…?" He let the question dangle in the air.

Malfoy, Lestrange, and Rosier turned their heads to wait Nott was gawking at. They recognized the female in an instant, Lestrange especially.

"Ophelia Darwin," Lestrange watched as the half-blooded witch waltzed over to William Zolotov. Lestrange's hungry eyes raked over her figure every chance they got and he felt no guilt. The former Hogwarts student wore a silk salmon pink, column dress that had an off the shoulder style to it.

Tom felt as if the acid in his stomach tried to bubble and explode in his body. He slowly turned over to look at the girl he watched walk away from the only place he thought was home. _This fucking witch..._ Tom thought both with bitterness and dejection. "Lestrange." Tom barked with a sharp tone. "Don't look at her for the rest of the night and don't try to ask her for a dance."

Lestrange listened to the command, he set his sights on a different girl who he believed was not as pretty the half-blooded witch.

"The announcement has been made," Malfoy told the young men who sat at the table with him. "Blaine's engagement is to Elwood." _Does no one care for these traditions anymore? The sacredness of protecting our blood?_

None of the young men (besides Malfoy) really cared but they all joined in the round of applause and cheers that erupted all around them.

Tom Riddle watched as Ophelia gave Blaine and Elwood a big hug, Zolotov was behind the group, with a freshly opened bottle of champagne.

He felt neither happiness nor anger by Ophelia's presence.

* * *

Ophelia smiled brightly as she danced the night away. The first dance was with William and his bottle champagne.

"Careful," Ophelia teased lightly. "You might get alcohol poisoning."

Zolotov smiled sweetly (or maybe it was more of a drunken smile) at his friend. "I'm Russian, I don't get alcohol poisoning. I just get hung over."

Ophelia only rolled her eyes and took a small sip of the champagne bottle William seem so fond of.

Her second dance was with Peter and his now calmed nerves. Ophelia was starting to feel light headed, as she ended up drinking at least a whole half of a champagne bottle with William. She still had enough sense to follow through on a dance without stepping on Pete's feet.

"Do you think I'll make Margo happy when she marries me?" Peter had one foot on the ground and one foot on cloud nine. "I think I will."

Ophelia gave a drunk giggle. "Peteris, you make her happy now. You've made her the happiest witch in all of Europe!"

Peter gave a mock scoff. "Only Europe? Why not the whole world."

Ophelia sighed and shrugged the way only happy drunks could. "Then make her the happiest witch in all the world."

Peter opened his mouth, to say something smart and witty but another voice spoke before the newly engaged man could.

"Elwood, it looks as if we are to be brother-in-laws."

 _Fuck me._ Ophelia's happy mood deflated a little.

"So it would seem." Peter offered his hand out for Edmund to shake. "Glad you could make it."

Edmund shook hands with Peter. "Family event, couldn't miss it if I was on my deathbed." The French wizard's eyes went over to the half-blooded witch. "Darwin."

"Campion." Ophelia's voice came off more friendly than she wanted it to. She wanted to sound uninterested but instead she sounded delighted, giggly almost. "Hope you're enjoying the night."

"It certainly beats being blasted to the wall with a bombing spell." Edmund was close to glaring at the former Hufflepuff, but he didn't. "I can finally hear properly on my left ear now."

Very flippantly, Ophelia acted as if Edmund's statements had nothing to do with her. She was going to have a fun night-she didn't have to put up with Edmund. "How nice." She turned her attention to Peter. "I'm going to get more champagne. Peter, do you want anything?"

The newly engaged man only shook his head no as his friend marched off and away. Peter looked back at Edmund. "I thought you were told by Margo to stay away from Pipa."

The French wizard sighed. "I know, I was."

Peter scanned around the crowded room, looking for a red headed beauty. "Does your date know you're standing around talking to girls you shouldn't be?"

"Selene went off to powder room to check her makeup and such." Edmund watched as Ophelia's figure blurred out of his sights. "I only wanted to tell Ophelia I was sorry for putting her in a situation. That's all."

Peter rolled his eyes at his future brother-in-law. "Trust me mate, she doesn't want your apology. Leave her be for the rest of the night." He then took it upon himself to remind Edmund of something. "If you see Riddle make sure you don't throw the first punch like last time."

The handsome Ravenclaw decided that was his cue to return back to his date.

Ophelia did not go to get more champagne. She didn't go near the buffet set up, the fondue table, the open bar, or even back to the dance floor. The half-blooded witch easily slipped away from the loud party to the outside gardens of the Blaine manor; she had the comfort of the booming jazz and swing music still lingering strongly in the background.

It made her feel as if she was still apart of the celebration.

As Ophelia walked around the garden, no traces of winter touched were to be found. Roses still bloomed, leaves were green as ever, flowers of all types released their lovely fragrances into the air. _Must be some sort of barrier spell_ , Ophelia told herself as she walked around the garden. _Or a controlled weather spell was put over this area._

A beautiful yellow peony caught the witch's eye; without any hesitation she plucked out and gently caressed its petals. The drunk half-blooded witch brought the soft flower up to her cheek and hummed in an off tone key of ' _Cheek to Cheek_ ' by Fred Astaire. Her body began to sway to the rhythm of her humming

"You could dance inside." A voice huffed out loud. "You look like a damn fool out here by yourself, dancing with a flower."

Immediately, Ophelia dropped the yellow peony at the sound of the familiar voice. She smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on her dress and cleared her throat. A mixture of shock and self-loathing hit her as she wanted to excuse herself from his company.

No one had told her that Tom Riddle would be attending this event. Ophelia looked up at Tom, her eyes drinking the image of him. Tom was so handsome, so posed, and yet the memory of how cruel he could be was a stark contrast to his looks.

Ophelia didn't say anything to the heir of Slytherin, she brushed his comment off as best as she could. The brunette walked by the Slytherin, her body tense, she knew what he'd do next.

Tom reached out and grabbed Ophelia's wrist, he was gentle about. For the first time, his touch felt warm.

"I'll go back inside." Ophelia didn't pull away. "The view is nice out here, you can enjoy it on your own." Her drunk and happy mood was officially ruined but she offered her best fake smile to the Slytherin prefect. "This life style really does suit you, Tom. Mingling with others that have high standing in pure-blood society." Now she was trying to make small talk in hopes that Tom would get tired of her ramblings and let her go. "Margo's dad works for Gringotts, own some percentage of the bank. A lot of high standing members of the Ministry of Magic are out and about, ask Peter or William to introduce you to-."

"Stop." Tom's voice was steady yet cold. "Ophelia, you know I hate meaningless chatter."

Ophelia placed her free hand over Tom's shoulder. "You should let me leave you now."

"No." Tom narrowed his eyes at Ophelia and adjusted his hold on her. "You should let me have a dance with you." He placed both his hands along the brunette's waist. "You'll leave when I say you can."

Ophelia tried to relax as she brought her hands around Tom's shoulders. She leaned the side of her head against his chest, not looking at the handsome Slytherin relaxed her slightly.

"I almost missed you." Tom had little to no emotion in his voice. He said it with the same tone as someone would when announcing a mandatory meeting: flat. "I get more quiet and time to focus without you being a bloody distraction."

Ophelia didn't say anything, she only let herself follow Tom's pace as they dance in the garden.

"Well," Tom's tone wasn't as monotone as before. A little emotion allowed itself into his voice. "Aren't you going to say something?"

Ophelia shook her head while pressed against his chest, messing her hair up slightly.

The heir of Slytherin pulled away from the former Hogwarts student. His brown eyes showed a slight hint of red to them. Tom wanted tighten the hold he had on Ophelia's waist until she bruised; he wanted to scream at her; shake her body and rough her around until he got a reaction out of her but he couldn't bring himself to at the moment.

In an odd twisted way, Tom figured Ophelia throwing a spell that rendered him unconscious was an act of loyalty. Ophelia threw her shot at a valuable education so Edmund wouldn't be cursed beyond recognition and so Tom wouldn't be founded out for the dark wizard he was. Deep down, Tom Marvolo Riddle knew damn well that not even his most loyal of pureblood followers would do such a thing for him.

An idea popped up in Tom's head and easily flowed out of his mouth. "I am going to talk to Dippet. I'll persuade him to let you be expelled for the remainder of sixth year, but seventh year you'll be back." There was a genuine sense of sincerity as he spoke. "Ophelia, I can make it happen. Dippet is-."

"No." Ophelia finally spoke, she pulled away from Tom. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts." She didn't want to tell Tom about what her grandfather had planned for her in terms of education. Ophelia was going to do something new and different, something possibly better for her.

She was not going to let Tom Riddle degrade her choices; or at the very least keep it at a minimal scale for the night.

"Excuse me?" Tom let Ophelia slip from his hold, he wasn't sure he heard right, "What did you say?"

"I'm not going back to Hogwarts, Tom." Ophelia's voice was steady and calm, but her heart was a mess and the alcohol she consumed was starting to make her stomach sick. "I refuse to go back."

A dangerous aura surrounded the heir of Slytherin. _So I did hear right then._ Ophelia was not going to return to the one place Tom always thought was home and he was not happy about that. "So you'll throw away magic!? Ophelia, do not be a fool! I am giving you a chance, an opportunity to have it all back! Have us ba-."

Tom froze in the middle of the sentence….Maybe a small part of him wanted Ophelia more than peace, quiet, and focus for the rest of his time in Hogwarts.

The most practiced and insincere smile painfully made its way to Ophelia's face. "Tom...never once did you make anything 'us' it was always about you. I am also still a witch, magic is still in me-I couldn't throw it away even if I wanted to." She stepped close enough to Tom, took both of her slender hands in hers and kissed both of his hands on the knuckles. "You've found your place in the world, Tom, and I am sure the path you're taking has no room for me."

 _She's right.._.Tom thought angrily, as he ripped his hands out of Ophelia's grip. "I once had hopes for you Ophelia- _darling_." He said the last word with a hateful emphasis. "But I see you're so fixated on being nothing but a typical waste of a half-blood witch."

"You can write to me if wish." There was an obvious disconnect between Ophelia's voice and emotions. Ophelia's hollow smile was starting to hurt her face; her voice laced with a dishonest cheerfulness. The only thing true to Ophelia's emotions at this moment where the steady tears that slowly escaped from those pale and green eyes of hers.

"You're not fucking serious." Tom practically growled at the witch who stood before him.

Ophelia wiped her tears but more still came."I wish we could have gotten along better." She still didn't let her obvious melancholy show through her voice. "Tom, we could have been the best of friends if you at least tried with the same decency that I did."

Within a split second, Tom's hand wrapped around her neck, gently yet unyielding. His lips brushed against hers but not to the extent where it would have even been considered a kiss. The heir of Slytherin took in a deep breath, anger bubbled through him and he tightened his hold on Ophelia's neck. Tom practically head butted Ophelia when he pressed his forehead against hers. "I would _never_ be friends with the likes of you."

Tom released his hold on Ophelia and for the first time, his face contorted with so much enmity towards her, he looked ugly. He left her, not one word left his mouth as he stormed away from her.

Ophelia stayed outside in the gardens awhile longer after that. At least until she was sure her tears had stopped and until she was sure she could pretend to be fine for a small while longer.

This time, it wouldn't be for Margo's sake or anyone else's sake but her damn own sanity and sense of self. She even made a small game plan as to how to seem okay during the party.

 _Go in, go to bar, drink, find William, then dance. Go back to bar, drink some more, dance with Margo, drink, then dance with Peter. Stay at bar for rest of the night...Get some food in my system somewhere in there._

* * *

"Could I have some more, pretty please?" William asked with a confused look at the empty champagne bottle as if it would refill itself. He sat on the edge of a king sized bed, genuinely hurt that the bottle still remained empty after he asked. "Oh, you skank." Was all he said to the bottle as he cradled it.

Peter laid on the bed, his body fully relaxed after such a busy night. "I used to think skank was the female term for skunk." He kicked william in the behind. "Get off for a quick second, I want to sleep under the covers."

Margo was lying, face down on white, plush style carpet that covered the whole floor area of the guest room. "I want the room to stop spinning." The blonde witch gripped her hair and tugged at it. "I also want fish and chips right about now."

Ophelia laid comfortably on a light blue chaise lounge; her eyes were glazed over with fatigued. The room was spinning to her as well but she didn't mind it too much. She closed her eyes to world and took in a deep breath. Sleep didn't fall on Ophelia quickly.

Her mind replayed her interactions with Tom on repeat, forwards, backwards, and in different segments. The image of Tom's ugly face started to burn into her memory as if it could have been tattooed into her brain.

 _Fuck him,_ Ophelia through angrily as she felt hot tears burn into her skin. _Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! Fuck him to hell and back!_

Peter, William, and Margo were all too drunk to notice that Ophelia cried herself to sleep that night. For that, Ophelia was extremely grateful.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I also do not own the classical music pieces listed in this chapter. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible.

So this chapter, I introduced two new characters in a different setting and such. Without giving everything away, I hope I was respectful of the Navajo culture. I really tried to keep it respectful. This chapter is more of Ophelia's journey after everything that happened so far in the year 1944. I think next chapter, I'll focus on 1945 and certain events during then.

Also sorry for the late update, my schedule at work is ever changing and as much as I'd like to quit-I got a dog to support and bills to pay.

Hopefully, you guys enjoy the chapter. I want to say thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. It shows me that people are interested this story and that I should continue. Please,please,please leave some reviews if you can! Thank you!

* * *

 **January 21, 1944**

Colorado was nothing like Ophelia was expecting. In her mind's eye, she thought all parts of America looked like either Hollywood or New York. She did like how pretty the sky looked early in the dusty morning.

The British witch looked around her settings, she had never been on what was called a 'Navajo Reservation' but she did try to be very mindful of the Natives' home. Poppa had already warned Ophelia the Navajo people, their non-magic wielders and those who were called Medicine Men (who Ophelia supposed was the witches and wizards) might not have all too happy that they were there.

Right now, Ophelia and Gregory Darwin were in a medium sized house, inside a quaint little sitting space with an elderly Navajo member. Ophelia's eyes studied their host: from her long braided hair intertwined with shades of gray, white, and a soft black; the beautiful beaded earrings she wore, the wrinkles on her face were minimal but from her eyes-Ophelia could tell this woman had gone through more than enough of life experience.

She watched quietly as an older Navajo woman said something to Gregory Darwin in her native tongue. The older woman who had not given her name to Ophelia had her hands pressed on either side of Poppa's face; her voice growing louder as she spoke. A light orange aura surrounded the old British wizard before it faded into nothing.

The Navajo elder removed her hands from Gregory Darwin, moved over to Ophelia, placed her hands on either side of the young woman's face and she spoke in a whisper before allowing her voice to boom.

A little gasp almost ran through Ophelia's lips, as a sensation of energy pulsed through her muscles with a cold touch. Like her grandfather, a light green aura also radiated off her body before it disappeared.

The old woman released her hold on Ophelia and stepped back. No smile was on her face, but she did a slight nod of stern approval. "My name is Ruth." The Navajo woman kept her gaze on Ophelia. "I will show you the ways of my people and you will show us respect."

Ophelia did not take Ruth's tone of voice as cold, rude, or cruel even. "I understand, totally and completely." Instead, Ophelia took Ruth's voice as dignified, controlled, and willing to let a British witch learn a thing or two.

Ruth walked away from the sitting room and into the kitchen of her house. She came back with a faded brown wicker basket with frayed handled tightly gripped in her hand and an oxhide leather satchel hanging from her shoulders.

"Here." Ruth offered the basket to Ophelia, her voice held such an authority. "Follow me, listen to what I teach, and do not ask a question directly after I've taught you one thing. You must wait for the next thing I teach you."

Ophelia grabbed the basket gently, she nodded her head. _Note to self: try not to talk Ruth's ear off._

Ruth looked over to Gregory Darwin, "If you want to go sightseeing, go to my brother next door and he will show you around."

Poppa smiled. "I was hoping to go fishing today. Any water close by these parts?"

Ruth arched an eyebrow at the British man. "Go next door and ask."

Poppa shrugged as he apparated off and away from the two witches. A good natured smile was on his face. "If I catch any fish, let's have some for dinner shall we?"

A low and deep yet short hum echoed from Ruth's throat. Her eyes were closed gently.

Ophelia quietly stepped forward to the Navajo woman, she placed her fair toned hand over Ruth's medium tawny colored hand. The former Hufflepuff student wasn't sure if she was supposed to speak or not.

Ruth's humming stopped, she opened her eyes, and took a light breath of fresh air in. "Come with me out to the meadows. Hopefully, you have a good understanding of nature."

Ophelia kept her overwhelming sense of disappointment to herself. Everyone knew 'understanding nature' was code for 'herbology'.

* * *

Tom Riddle looked at the grandfather clock that ticked away in the advanced potions classroom, it was late in the afternoon. He already knew the course material Slughorn had covered, but he didn't give a rat's ass about it.

Tom had always been great at displaying self-control, it was something he had to learn at a young age when to let his impulses out and when not to. He was getting impatient, restless, but most of all he was getting angry.

Every little thing irked him beyond reasoning. A wrong look from Dolohov; a stupid comment from Lestrange; Nott's inability to get anything into his thick skull as it went into one ear and out the other. Malfoy's own commitments to his actual studies even irritated Tom.

 _They don't have the slightest idea,_ Tom thought as he blocked out Slughorn's lecture. _As to what loyalty is or how to properly obey and listen to orders._ Tom was going to make sure that even one, just _one,_ insignificant look, comment, or whatever shit those pure-bloods gave him tonight they'd learn to never do it again.

* * *

 **March 22, 1944**

"Did I get it right this time?" Ophelia held up a rolled bundle filled with herbs and plants up to Ruth. Her hopes were high; Ophelia was almost certain she had gotten it right this time but then again Ophelia thought that got it right the first ten times she tried.

It was admittedly harder than Ophelia expected. There was a big sense of purpose when doing the things Ruth taught. Everything from the herbs, where they were found, the chants that needed to be said as they were prepared: Ophelia had to remember in order for her to get anything right, any spell, any potion Ruth was teaching, to remember the purpose and focus on her own intent on making sure that purpose was fulfilled.

Ruth took the bundle gently out of the foreign witch's hand. First, she brought it up to her nose and took in a deep breath to inhale the scent of the rolled bundle. Ruth hummed and she gave the bundle back to Ophelia.

"Well?" Ophelia tried not to sound too eager to get an answer out of the Navajo woman she came to respect so deeply.

"Its shit." Ruth answered in her ever so dignified and regal tone.

"Oh…" Ophelia frowned but her hands went back into the wicker basket that still had all the herbs and plants she needed to make another one. "I'll try again."

"Its shit," Ruth repeated again. "But this shit will do." A small smile, if one could even call it a smile, lasted on Ruth's face for only a fraction of a second. "I still want you to make another one."

Without arguing or feeling sorry for herself, Ophelia immediately went to work. _I am going to get it perfect this time._ Hope fluttered in Ophelia's chest, and a calm self assurance filled her soul as Ruth hummed and sang away.

 _I will get this perfect._

Somewhere on the Navajo reservation, Gregory Darwin was out and about with Ruth's brother, Matthew, hiking out and away from any magic lessons.

* * *

Margo sat down at the dinner table, poking at her food. Everytime an owl flew overhead, the blonde witch would look up.

William reviewed his notes for Arithmancy. The Russian's eyes were glazed over with boredom, but he had to keep reminding himself that he only had to be a Hogwarts student for a small while longer.

Peter was the only one at the moment capable of eating dinner, even if it was just tomato soup.

A small group of owls flew over their heads again, Margo looked up once more. There was a twisting in her gut.

 _Please, please, please_. Margo whined in her head. _Please let there be a letter for me. Please, please!_

A little owl, one that neither of the Hufflepuffs had seen before dropped a rectangular box in between the group.

Margo nearly screamed with happiness. "Pipa remembered to write to us!" The Blaine heiress said that every time they got a letter or a package from their friend.

William was the first to grab the package and tear into it, he was so glad a distraction came to him. There were three objects in the box, three very unique objects William had never seen. His eyes flicked with confusion as he pulled object out and shoved the box over to Peter. "How neat," William said out loud. He admired the feathers that hung from a perfect circle, which had intricate pattern weaved inside it.

Peter immediately dug into the box, he was sure there was a note William ignored. He pulled out a piece of paper from the box, it was hiding on the sides, and read it out loud. "To my friends: Margo, William, and Peter. These are called Dream Catchers. Hang them above your heads when you sleep tonight, they are supposed to keep bad dreams away and only allow the good dreams to trickle down to the feathers and unto you." Peter took a pause before he read the next sentence. "I worked really hard to makes these for you-I had to redo each Dream Catcher at least eight times before I got the first one right. I miss you all and love you all. Best regards, Pipa."

Margo took one Dream Catcher and sat it by Peter. She took the last one out of the box and happily declared it for herself.

The blonde witch admired the details of the woven work within the circle. Margo smiled as she ran her fingers over the pattern. "Pipa is doing so good out in the world, don't you two agree?"

* * *

 **March 27, 1944**

Tom Riddle was irked. 'Irked' was not the best way to describe how much anger and frustration was festering inside of him.

"This is fucking ridiculous." Tom muttered under his breath as Dippet began to list off morning announcements.

"In addition to expanding the restricted area of the library, intensive studies in Defense of the Dark Arts-I have decided, as headmaster, that apparition within Hogwart grounds for the time being is prohibited." Dippet took a breath while a chorus of upset groans and whines erupted all around. "The current sixth years have already completed their tests and licensing, so until next year comes about with new sixth level students-no apparition on school grounds."

The Slytherin pinched the bridge of his nose. Ophelia wasn't even in Hogwarts anymore, yet she somehow managed to stick a thorn in his side.

"You give one half-blood a wand," Tom muttered. "Then she makes a little bit of a scene, and everyone tries to limit a little bit of everything." Perhaps, if the illusion of rules made everyone feel safe-Hogwarts would stay up and running. So maybe, just maybe, Ophelia didn't stick a thorn into Tom's side.

* * *

 **March 29, 1944**

Ophelia's eyes watered and she pulled her hands away from Ruth's face. Heat radiated off her hands, small burn marks were painted on Ophelia's palms. The burns on her hands hurt, and each time she failed to get the spell right they grew bigger and stung more that the first few failed attempts.

Ruth narrowed her eyes at the British witch. "Find the center of your soul before you try to dig into another's." The Navajo woman grabbed Ophelia's hands, eyeing the damage carefully. "Your mind wanders too much and that disconnect between mind and soul will hurt you."

"That's the way she's always been," Gregory Darwin was lying comfortably on the long couch in the sitting room. "Ophelia, the day dreamer."

"My mind was focused." Ophelia sighed, "But then I didn't know exactly what I was supposed to be focused on first, the center of my soul then yours. I thought maybe I supposed to find your soul first then mine."

Matthew, Ruth's brother, shook his head. He sat on a recliner a little bit away from the long couch in the sitting room. "Find your center first, then the person's."

"Okay, okay, okay." Ophelia traced an aching finger over her burnt palm. "Can I redo that please?"

"Your hand is going to fry, take a break." Ruth placed a hand over Ophelia's shoulder. "Follow me into the kitchen, your hands need cold water."

"I didn't know trying to sense another person's soul would be hard," Ophelia told Ruth as her burns were being tended to.

Ruth chuckled. "A soul is a very personal thing, things that are personal usually are hard." She placed a rag soaked in cold water over the young witch's hands. "Some people don't like the thought of their soul being sensed-some people don't like the thought of someone knowing their true colors."

Ophelia took the cold rag off her hands and dried them on her skirt. "Please," Ophelia held her hands up close to the Ruth. "Let me try one more time."

"Oh, honey." Ruth put the cold rag back over Ophelia's hands. "No."

Ophelia sighed and hummed and then her mind go off somewhere beyond where she physically was.

Her mind drifted off, over to England, close to her family home on the country, then finally her mind landed on Hogwarts.

"Ruth?"

"Hm?"

"Please, just once more?"

Ruth sighed, "Just this once more."

Ophelia dried her hands on her skirt once more, and place her hands on either side of Ruth's face. She closed her dull green eyes, slowed her breathing pace down and relaxed her muscles.

An electric echo inched throughout Ophelia's muscles, the sensation left a cold chill all around her senses. Ophelia took in another breath and did her best to recite the spell in the Navajo language, each word was filled with respect and careful pronunciation.

The British witch opened her eyes and allowed her breathing pace to go back to normal.

A blinding white aura beamed from Ruth's body.

Ophelia took her hands off from Ruth's face, and stepped back from nearly being blinded. "I did it!"

Ruth rolled her eyes at the teen, a small part of the Navajo woman almost wanted to admit that maybe Ophelia was a likeable kid. The older woman was definitely going to miss the brunette with palest set of green eyes she ever saw.

* * *

 **April 15, 1944**

Ophelia looked over at the watch that was on her wrist, she still had it set to Colorado's time zone. She scratched the side of her head, Ophelia was either seven hours late or seven hours early. The former Hogwarts student sat in the Three Broomsticks waiting for her friend, she had already helped herself to four servings of butterbeer by putting it on William's running tab.

Her hair was pulled into a tight and low braid and she wore a plain white blouse with a long, black circle skirt. The table around her surrounded with three empty beer mugs, with three empty chairs.

The door chimed as it opened, Ophelia smiled, stood up from her chair, and waved at a pretty blonde witch. "Margo!"

"Pipa!" Margo ran over and embraced her friend. "It's so good to see you!"

"Sorry we're late." Peter's voice was gentle as he pulled a seat out for himself. "I overslept."

"I see you've gotten comfortable without us." William's voice chimed in happily. "Now, let's start with food, get everyone even more comfortable."

Ophelia smiled and sat settled back down into her chair, she turned her attention to Peter. "How's life in Hogwarts, classes, and whatnot?" She teased. "Breathing is stale air and roaming in pretty corridors."

Peter rolled his eyes but a smile was there. "You know, not too long ago you were so hurt at being expelled. Now you love to rub it in our faces that you don't have to go here."

"Yes," Ophelia nodded her head in agreement. "No more exams, test, essays, quizes, or anything else for me."

"Really? Then how do you learn anything at all, Ophelia-dearest."

Margo looked over to the source of the voice. "Tom, hello?" She looked over to Ophelia, "I didn't know you invited Tom as well to this little get together."

 _I didn't invite him, actually._ Ophelia looked over to Peter and William, her smile not as big as before. She tensed up and drank up the reminder of her butterbeer. Her mind calculated her next decision.

Tom sat down next to her, he leaned in close to her but stayed still and reserved. He was lucky, he caught a glimpse of her in the window while he was walking around Hogsmeade. It was like Tom's heart expanded a small bit at the sight of her, the wonderful scent of cinnamon was all too familiar to his senses.

The heir of Slytherin wanted to say he missed the half-blooded witch, but he didn't. The words never came out.

"Excuse me." Ophelia stood up and stepped away from the table, she looked at the watch on her wrist. "I lost track of the time, now I am going to be late. I have to go if I want to make it on time still."

A sad look came on Margo's face. "Do you really? I know we were late but-."

"Sorry," Ophelia interrupted as she already began walking away from the table. "I really have to go. Family related event, my mum wants me home now."

Tom Riddle saw through Ophelia Darwin's lie, he almost always could...He never thought though, that Ophelia would be so cold and brash towards him. The heir of Slytherin watched as Ophelia walked away from him and the home he found in Hogwarts.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible. I also do not own the John Keats poem used in this chapter.

Here soon, I'll have more of a regular/open schedule so that should help in posting chapters regularly. Also, to answer a question I spotted from in the reviews recently: Ophelia does still have her wand and is still able to do magic. Her explusion is more to do with the fact that she destroyed campus property and caused harm to Hogwart's golden boy-Tom Riddle-and to Edmund Campion, who is a good student. She got to ultimately keep her wand only because Tom and Edmund didn't suffer extreme injuiries and because she didn't completely destroy that portion of the corridors that whole deal took place in. It like a "you don't have to go without magic your whole life, but you can't practice it here' deal.

Hopefully, you guys enjoy this chapter-I think its longer than the usual chapters.

I want to say thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. It shows me that people are interested this story and that I should continue. Please,please,please leave some reviews if you can! Thank you much everyone, when you leave a review it lets me know readers are interested in this story and want me to continue. Thank you so much!

* * *

 **May 8, 1945**

How many Royal Air Force soldiers did Ophelia kiss? Maybe there was even an American sailor wedged in between there. A crazy amount of happiness surged through Ophelia's viens, as she danced away and drank the night away in London.

Turning nineteen had done wonders for the half-blooded witch. Her hair that was once long enough to be put into a braid was now chopped off into an short bob in which her brown hair only reach the middle of her neck. She even had it slightly curled for the night. Ophelia's skin now had a perpetual tan from her increased time in Colorado and thanks to Ruth, Ophelia knew how to make a perfect lotion from fresh herbs that made her skin softer than ever.

She pulled her lips away from the Royal Air Force soldier. "Have a great rest of your evening, soldier." A drunk wink and grin was tossed from Ophelia to the stranger.

"Oh, stay with me." The soldier sweetly said. "The night's still young! My mates made plans to stop at Leicester Square tonight before hopping off and away on another bus somewhere. Come with me?"

"Sorry, love." Ophelia took a step back, and drunkenly pointed somewhere randomly in the pub she was currently celebrating at. "My cousin and his best mate, and his fiance is here. I got to show them around."

Ophelia walked with a drunken skip in her step away from the soldier as she blew him a meaningless kiss. The young witch easily found William first, chatting among a circle of pretty muggle girls.

Peter was playing billiards and smoking a cigar with a small group of soldier.

 _Margo._ Ophelia stood up on a chair and scanned the entire room. _If I was a pretty, blonde where would I be in a muggle bar I've never been to…_

Ophelia had no idea where Margo would be, so from where she stood on the chair, she yelled over the music and chatter. "Margo! Margaret! Woo-hoo! Margo! Margaret Blaine!"

"Pipa, get down from there!" Margo almost appeared right by Ophelia's side and swatted the girl on the leg. "Get down, you're in a skirt."

Margo was undeniably sober but she just managed to wrangle herself away from a soldier she was dancing with. Margo's heart was pounding against her chest, her feet ached, and she finally caught her breath.

Ophelia ungracefully stepped down from the chair, and embraced her friend. "Are you having fun? You aren't drunk?"

Margo laughed it off. "Unlike you, I have class early tomorrow."

 _Oh, bollocks._ Ophelia looked at the watch on her wrist. It was still set on Colorado's time since Ophelia was there only last week and she hadn't gotten around to adjusting the time. _It's probably time to get them back anyways._

She grabbed Margo's hand and began to round up Peter and William and had her friend follow her five blocks away from the pub, down to an alley, and behind a closed pastry shop.

"Can you guys apparate back on your own?" Ophelia might have been too drunk to ask them if they were fine to go back on their own.

Peter arched an eyebrow at his friend, "We're fine to go back to Hogwarts on our own. Are you fine to go home?"

Ophelia looked at Peter with a look of slight shock. "Wait, you're sober too?"

William patted Ophelia on the shoulder. "They have class tomorrow and I have work with my father tomorrow at the Ministry."

"We were supposed to celebrate," Ophelia whined. "The war is over, you guys!" She ran her fingers through her short hair and sighed. "Well I guess you guys should apparate off then."

"And you," Margo asked. "How will you get home?"

"I'll take a cab home...Or a bus?" Ophelia smiled and waved her friend off. "Maybe I can walk?"

"Oh, Merlin." Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. Neither of them knew where exactly in the country Ophelia lived so they couldn't apparate her there. She also had never been to the Zolotov estate and she didn't speak Russian-so maybe staying with William even for the night would be too confusing for a hangover witch. "We'll have to let her stay in Hogwarts just for the night and sneak her out sometime early in the morning."

They all apparated off to where they needed to be.

"I am expelled!" Ophelia whispered as she tried to wiggle out of Peter and Margo's hold on her. "We can all get in trouble! You two can get expelled too!"

The two pure-blooded students ignored their friend and began to walk her closer to the castle.

"Wait, wait, wait." Ophelia still tried to reason with her friends. "Prefects! A prefect will see you two with me and you'll get in trouble!"

Margo sighed, "Pipa! It is fine! It is nearly three o'clock in the morning, there shouldn't be any prefects now."

"Sorry," Ophelia wrangled herself out of Peter and Margo's hold. "Not risking it!" The brunette started to run in the opposite direction of her friends. Away from the Hufflepuff common room and who knows where he drunk mind would take her. "I'll write to you both soon!"

"Pipa, no!" Peter yelled as he tried to catch up with her but she was already too far gone.

Margo cradled her face in her hands. Both the pure-blooded Hufflepuffs were way too sober to deal with this shit so late into the night

 _This is exciting_ , Ophelia thought to herself as she ran through the dark and empty halls of Hogwarts. Her mind too hazy and happy to understand that if she got caught, how much trouble she'd land in. The door that lead to the library stood in front of still yet inviting.

Ophelia let herself in and the familiar creak of the heavy and large doors, goosebumps covered her skin at the sound.

Tom Riddle quietly put the book he wasn't supposed to read back in the aisle of the restricted area. Not that it mattered-he couldn't even get the words to appear in the book for him to read. The handsome teen tiptoed carefully out of the book aisle and poked his head out and looked towards the doors.

At first he was going to ignore the odd coincidence but the distinct sound of a person vocalizing to the tune of 'In the Mood' by Airmen of Note was too hard to ignore. It did mean, Tom could easily control the situation. He let his ears lead the way to finding the source of the vocalizing.

Ophelia was standing on top of one of the many tables in the library and spinning in tiny circles around on the small surface area. Some light from the moon hit on the surface of the moon and it landed just perfectly on the half-blooded witch's body.

The heir of Slytherin almost froze in his steps when he saw the source of the noise. Tom recognized her as soon as he laid eyes on the figure.

 _How did she even get into…?_ Tom quickly ignored the question in his mind and walked up to close to the table where Ophelia still spun in tiny circles. "I'd take twenty points from Hufflepuff, but you're not even supposed to be in here anymore."

Ophelia stopped her drunken spinning and immediately got down from the table. At first she almost didn't recognize that voice, it sounded much deeper than the last time she heard it. "Leaving now." Ophelia quickly said as she made her way towards the today. "Sorry. Have a blessed night!"

 _Did you just tell Tom Riddle to have a blessed night?_

"You cut your hair." Tom noted. His brown eyes raked over her body carefully. "You've also gotten a tan."

"You've gotten taller." Ophelia replied back. Her eyes drank him just like she drank a gallon worth of gin rickey. _Still handsome as ever_ , she thought sadly to herself. _With that ugly side hidden deep down inside him._

"Taller?" Tom scoffed. "That's all I get out of you? Taller?" _How deep of you to notice._ "All you can say is that? No, 'how are you, Tom?' or 'how are your studies?' All you can comment on is my outward appearance?" _Typical of her._

Ophelia combed her hair with her fingers. "You commented on only my outward appearance, I commented on yours."

"Have fun drinking, did you?" Tom snapped. "Since the muggle war is all over now. You can continue to live in your comfortable magic-less world knowing your dirty world is safe." Each word that came out his mouth was meant to hurt and belittle her.

Ophelia felt bitterness bubble inside her and a part of her wanted to hurt Tom. Hurt him good at least once-or at the very least, get under his skin.

"It is your world too, Tom. Remember, the orphanage car that came around the station to pick you up and drop you off? That was in the muggle world." Ophelia looked Tom with a cold and steady gaze accompanied by a drunk and cheap smirk. "And yes, I did have fun drinking. I had even more fun kissing the handsome men who served for their country."

 _You whore!_ Tom's eyes widened in shock, not because of what Ophelia said to him. He was more shocked about the immediate reaction his heart had to what she said. "You're lying!" He took a step towards Ophelia and grabbed her by the shoulders. "You're just fucking lying, Ophelia."

The half-blooded witch brought her hands up to Tom's face, she was still under the influence of everything she drank. _I want to see...see who he really is._ Ophelia began to speak in the Navajo language to begin the spell.

 _What the bloody hell?_ Tom didn't pull away from the former Hogwarts student, he was interested in what she was up to. A cold chill rushed through every vessel in Tom's body.

Ophelia opened her eyes and saw a very faint dark light radiate off Tom's body. _Almost too faint…_ A sudden surge of emptiness hit Ophelia's sense… _.It's as if…_

She removed her hands off Tom's face and stepped back from the Slytherin student. Her drunk haze had cleared and full sober clarity had taken over. _It's as if he doesn't really have a soul._

It scared Ophelia beyond her limits and beyond what her original fear of Tom used to be. _He must have done something terrible...Utterly, unforgivably, truely fucking terrible._

"I have to go." Ophelia's voice was nearly trembling. She took a few more steps back, then broke out into a fast paced walk before finally breaking into a full run. _I just have to make it to Hogsmeade and I can apparate and I'll be safe in bed._

Tom nearly chased after Ophelia but he knew that would only make her run even faster. _She knows something..._ Tom was sure of it. A small part of his humanity that lingered hoped that whatever it is Ophelia knew from her fancy spell, it wasn't related to the Horcruxes he's made or the Horcruxes he was planning to make...He might have to really hurt her.

* * *

 **May 15, 1945**

Everything was hot and close to miserable. Gregory Darwin was almost starting to regret his idea to visit the far away Pacific that had been clawed by the hands of World War II. There were scattered pieces of that terrible war still present on the island.

"Pipa," Gregory Darwin called out for his granddaughter from under the shade of a large palm tree, where sand was cool and not scorching hot. "Please, wait in the shade until we meet our guide."

"It's not that hot, Poppa." Ophelia stood out on a beach, with her feet planted in the shallow end as little waves tickled her feet. The rays of the sun felt wonderful on her back.

"You should listen to your elders." A voice in the wind called out.

Ophelia turned around but didn't see anyone around her. She saw that her Poppa was still under the shade of a palm tree. "Is anyone there?" She whispered and turned around again.

"I am here." The voice replied. "As my ancestors and their ancestors before them and so on and so forth."

"So can I see you?" Ophelia asked back. She wondered if maybe the heat of the sun and lack of being hydrated was starting to fry her brain.

"Turn slow and you'll see me."

Carefully, she turned around and saw who she assumed was their guide to the island. A man who looked to be in his forties with short and curly pitch black hair and beautiful brown skin stood in front of Ophelia. Ophelia noted how even though the older man was quite handsome-his eyes caught her attention. Instead of this man's eyes being blue, green, brown, or hazel-his eyes were white. Only white.

"Are you the guide?" Ophelia asked as she tried to took around for a walking stick or cane of any sort that helped this man get around.

The man smiled. "I am. My name is Kane. You must be Ophelia Darwin and your grandfather by the palm tree is Gregory Darwin I take it?"

Ophelia nodded. She carefully shifted her gaze around. "Are you also-?"

"Supposed to teach you magic?" Kane nodded his head. "Yes, I am." He then added, "By the way, we need to work on blocking your mind off-you're too easy to read. I know you have a question, but if you want to ask it then just ask it."

"R-right." Ophelia nodded her head but she was unsure if asking her question would make her seem extremely rude or not.

"So are you going to ask it?" Kane asked back. "Or do you need me to ask and answer it for you?"

"So…" Ophelia sighed feeling incredibly uncomfortable with herself. "Are you blind or are your eyes just...like that?"

"Blind." Kane announced happily. "But don't worry-I know how to see without them. I'll teach you how to do that as well."

Ophelia tilted her head off to side and a concerned look came to her face. "Am I going to be blind too?"

A bark of laughter erupted from Kane's lips. "You're a funny one. No you won't be blind too." He pointed over to Gregory Darwin, who still sat in the cool shade of a palm tree. "Let's grab him and go. You'll be staying with my sister, her family, and myself during you time here."

Gregory Darwin was more than happy to move from under a palm tree to a house with a roof over his head, a cold drink in his hand, and a fan blowing cold air in his face.

* * *

 **May 19, 1945**

Tom never minded prodding around for any type of information he wanted or needed. Especially not when his future was involved. He remembered how at Margo and Peter's engagement party the heir of Hufflepuff was somewhere in the mix among all the other purebloods.

 _It means Margo has connections..._ Tom rubbed his eyes as he tossed in bed; the sheets felt silky and cold to the touch but he couldn't get comfortable. A part of it could have been because he was still bothered by the thought of Ophelia carelessly kissing other men- _ **muggle men**_ no less. Tom tried his best to focus on anything else.

He couldn't remember exactly what the descendant of Helga Hufflepuff's name was but he almost sure it started with 'H' as well.

If Tom was lucky enough, he could get close to who ever the descendant of Hufflepuff was. Another descendant of the four wizards who made Hogwarts his home. _Who knows what goodies would be lying around that home of hers._ Tom smirked at the thought of all the riches a spoiled and wealthy pure-blood could have. He looked down at ring that adorned his finger, its presence strong in and ominous. The one and only Slytherin's ring.

A part of Tom had a strong fucking inkling that whoever this descendant was-she had a thing or two he wanted.

 _Tomorrow: start making friends with Margo Blaine and Peter Elwood._ Tom yawned and closed his eyes. _Try to secure a invite for their wedding. Scoop for more info on Hufflepuff descendant...Hopefully, I won't have to find a date for the damn thing._

* * *

 **May 20, 1945**

"Give up my wand?" Ophelia wasn't sure she heard right and she hesitantly held out her wand to Kane. "Can't I at least have it on me though?"

"No." Kane snatched the wand out of her grip and placed it on a shelve where his sister kept a collection of seashells. "You might have needed it in Hogwarts but you do not need it here. Do you see me with a wand?"

"Well, no but-." Ophelia stopped before she got ahead of herself. She didn't want to say something in a rush and come off as inconsiderate, ignorant, and insensitive. "But I need my wand. What if I need to apparate?"

"You won't." Kane stated firmly. He grabbed two hats made out of palm fronds, he tossed one hat at Ophelia before putting his on. "Stay close to me."

 _It smells like freshly cut grass_ , Ophelia smiled to herself as the scent of her hat seemed to grow stronger in the heat of the sun. "So where are we going, Kane?"

"The cemetery." He answered easily as he walked on a dirty road, careful to avoid anything that would trip him up.

Sometimes Ophelia forgot he was blind. The brunette picked up her speed so she could walk side by side with her new teacher. "Why the cemetery?"

A small look of sorrow slapped itself on Kane's face, cutting deep wrinkles in his otherwise perfect and brown skin. "I visit my wife and my son's graves every day when my day begins."

Ophelia felt a rich amount of guilt all over her conscience _. I need to keep my mouth shut._

"No." Kane sighed. "You do not need to keep your mouth shut. You need to ask questions to learn-and now you learned that I lost my family during the war that was waged here."

"Will this be my first lesson with you?" Ophelia asked quietly as she saw tombstones only fifteen feet away from where they were. The distance shortened as they kept walking. "Learning about loss?"

Kane nodded. "Magic does not always comes from a good and happy place. Sometimes magic is rooted in sadness, or anger, desperation, or in my case loss." He pointed to his eyes, "I was never able to see, but I survived because magic is what helped me make up for that ability that was lost on me." Kane's white eyes looked right into Ophelia's green eyes. "You've lost Hogwarts but you'll learn because magic isn't in the wand or just in that school."

"Because it's in me?" Ophelia wasn't sure if her answer was right.

Kane smiled and little at her words. "Exactly because it is in you." He then turned his attention to two plain white graves. He placed a hand on the grave that had a carved impression of what looked like to a hibiscus. "Ophelia please meet my wife, Akiko." Kane then removed his hand from the first grave and placed on the grave right next to it, "and Kento, my son."

Suddenly, the guilt that Ophelia felt earlier was completely destroyed. Only to be replaced with immense heartbreak for her teacher. Judging from their names-Kane's family was Japanese-and hadn't she heard something gruesome about what Japanese citizens did when the lost the war on either news or a radio broadcast-and if they had died during the war then…?

 _Then_ , Ophelia thought as she tried to keep herself from crying… t _hen did they jump off a cliff like that report said?_

"What you're feeling, that heartbreak," Kane said, "Is a dangerous state of mind. Never cast a spell when you're in that emotion."

"Why?" Ophelia sniffed as the tears did fall down her face. "Why?"

"Because that spell will only come off as nothing but a curse." Kane stated calmly. "A very ugly and irreversible curse."

* * *

 **June 19, 1945**

Margo didn't like her brother's girlfriend-plain and simple. No, Selene Sharpe was not particularly evil or too much of a bitch towards Margo, or Peter, or even towards Edmund. No.

Margo did remember how much Selene was a bitch towards Ophelia and for that Margo was already sure she could never like the red headed beauty who maybe could hold a candle to the blonde witch's smile.

Though now, _now_ Margo was sure she absolutely loathed Selene to an extent beyond humanly possible. _I cannot believe Peter and Edmund left us alone in a train compartment together!_

"So are you saying it's not okay for me to wear white on your wedding day, Margo?" Selene asked coyly with what many men would call a stunning smile-but Margo decided it was more of a shit eating grin.

"That is precisely what I am saying, Sharpe." Margo said trying not to let her anger get the best of her. "It is my wedding day on the twenty-ninth. I wear white."

"Well, you see Margo white is my absolute best color to wear during the summer." Selene's tone sounded as if she was trying to reason with a child who was wrong and she was in the right. "How about this: you have a wedding gown in any color besides white! It's so forward thinking and everyone will be talking about how bold your choice is!"

The compartment door slid open, Peter and Edmund came back with snacks in their possession.

"Our last ride on the Hogwarts Express," Peter sighed as he took his seat by Margo. "I'll miss it all so much."

Edmund chimed in, "So what were you two girls talking about."

Selene gave Edmund a quick kiss on the cheek before talking. "Margo's willing to wear a differently colored wedding dress so I can wear white on that day!" Selene smiled her annoying perfect smile as she shot a side glance at Margo.

"Really, how nice." Edmund quipped with a tone of forced happiness for his girlfriend. _Oh shit!_

Peter felt dread boil in the pit of his stomach. "Margo," He whispered in a tone that would hopefully soothe Margo. "I can deal with this."

Margo ignored her fiance and her half-brother. If anyone else, anyone, was allowed to wear white on her wedding day-it wasn't fucking wasn't Selene Sharpe.

"Listen here, bitch." Margo started out evenly. "I don't care if you're shaggin' my brother, I don't even care if he marries you and makes you a permanent fixture in our family." Margo pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the red head. Her tone was steady and laced with velvet smooth class that only a true lady who almost always got her way would have. "You come to my wedding in white, I will _**cut**_ you."

A pissy look came on Selene's face as she pouted and huffed for the remaining duration of the train ride home.

Peter and Edmund decided it was best to no longer have Selene and Margo by themselves alone in the train compartment.

 _At least William isn't here to egg anyone on further_ , Peter thought as he munched on a licorice wand. He carefully offered Margo a chocolate frog and nearly flinched as his bride-to-be snatched it out of his hand.

 _Fucking hell_ , Edmund told himself as he read through the Daily Prophet.

* * *

 **June 21, 1944**

Ophelia's eyes were closed behind the blindfold to mimic a complete loss of sight-her feet were steady on the hot, hot sand. It was noon, the tide was low, the sun glared down on everyone, while her grandfather watched on with a frozen treat in his hand along with some of Kane's nieces and nephews to keep him company in the shade of a coconut tree.

Ophelia's learned how to see even without her eyes-at first it took her a couple of days to get the spell right. It was very similar to having an out of body experience or looking at yourself from the eyes of a stranger. She had been practicing to a point where if she focused hard enough, she could see up to forty five feet away from where she was.

The most amazing thing though and what Ophelia Mae Darwin enjoyed the most about her lessons with Kane: she wasn't so dependent on a wand. She was getting better at wandless magic.

Kane was in the shallow end of the ocean, a wooden carving of a fish in his hands and a fishing net tossed over his left shoulder. "Come and fish with me."

Ophelia walked over Kane and held her hand out, the lightweight of the wooden fish. She traced her thumb over the fish's little carved eyes before placing it in the ocean.

"Find and bring me what I need." Ophelia channeled her focus onto the wooden fish, so much so she began to see through the empty eyes of the fish. She applied more of her energy into the fish, to a point where it felt like her body was submerged in the water.

The wooden fish began to move and bob up and down with the motions of the waves until finally it began to swim out and away in to the sea-as if it was a real fish. Ophelia saw everything as if she was a fish too. The pretty colors of the coral reef, the seahorses, sea turtles and octopus that swam around until she spotted a small school of red snapper fish.

Roughly thirty minutes later, Kane, his family, Ophelia and her Poppa walked from the beach to the village where their home (or home for the time being in the British visitor's case) to either fry, barbeque, bake, or maybe even curry the armful of red snapper fish that was caught.

* * *

 **June 25, 1945**

Ophelia's breathing was irregular as felt both Kane and her Poppa try to pry into her mind. Imagine being spiked in the head by claws, and those claws trying to split a head open to get to a brain.

Occlumency was harder than Legilimency, it gets extremely grueling after four hour session with no wand.

She could tell when her Poppa was prodding into her mind the old man tried to push poems in her head.

' _ **...Faded the flower and all its budded charms...Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes…'**_

When Kane was prodding into her mind, all she heard was a child's laughter and sometimes she even heard a woman's laugh.

While they weren't inflicting bad, ugly, painful things onto her mind-Ophelia still had to block them off.

Ophelia took in a shaky breath and focused on how she wanted quiet in her mind. She first worked on tuning out the poems and the sounds of laughter before she tried to focus on finding the center of her soul (much like Ruth had taught her). Ophelia quieted her thoughts, ignored any feelings she have had in this moment-over and over and over again...Until everything was all quiet.

No poems by John Keats in her head, no sounds of happy laughter from Kane's late family. Just silence.

Ophelia opened her pale her greens and let out a tired sigh before falling backwards onto a mat made out of palm fronds in the center of the house.

"I want a nap," Ophelia stated with her voice sounding far away, flat, and empty. Being out on an island with constant exposure to the sun and swimming in the warm ocean waters, the British witch had a tan that Margo would call "fashionable" and "very Italian". At this moment Ophelia was pale-almost as pale as salt. She clutched at the roots of her brown hair, a massive headache spanned in and around her forehead.

"You deserve a drink." Poppa replied back, a small hand fan (also made from a palm frond) was in Poppa's hands as he tried to cool himself down. "I believe we all do."

Kane let out a happy sigh. For a brief moment he wasn't sure if Ophelia would have completed the Occlumency spell, Kane was so sure she'd failed at it. "I'm surprised, for a while there I didn't think you'd pull through."

Ophelia groaned and only listed a few more things she wanted. "I want something sweet. I want to swim in to ocean for about ten minutes. I also want licorice."

Kane ignored his student. "Remember, my family is having a small party tonight for your departures. So please be ready by then."

Poppa beamed like a child on Christmas. "Is your sister baking banana bread?"

Kane nodded. "As you requested, my friend."

"Will there be drinks?" Poppa then asked.

Kane smiled. "Enough to get a whole herd of cows drunk."

Ophelia sighed, knowing full well that she was being ignored. "Someone better teach me how to make a flower crown." She vaguely remembered Margo saying how she wanted a flower crown on her wedding day-then Ophelia remember how Margo specifically stated she wanted made by hand and not with magic. Some bullshit about it having more meaning if her best friend made it for her-like she did with the dreamcatcher-by hand.

 _Back to England,_ Ophelia closed her eyes and relaxed her body. Sleep easily crashed on the half-blooded witch. Her body weak and limp from the most challenging spell she'd ever had to learn, but she did it.

Ophelia Mae Darwin had turn out to be a fine witch, maybe not the best or the greatest. Her name won't ever be listed in a History of Magic textbook as Ophelia Darwin being a force to be reckoned with or her coming up with the ultimate 'end all and be all' spell. Though, damn, did she do the best with what she had and was a perfectly fine witch in her own right because of it.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible. I also do not own the John Keats poem used in this chapter. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.

This series is rated 'M' for a reason-there is a sex scene in this chapter.

Also, the next chapter, expect another time jump!

I want to say a great and big thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. It shows me that people are interested this story and that I should continue. Please,please,please leave some reviews if you can! Thank you much everyone, when you leave a review it lets me know readers are interested in this story and want me to continue. Thank you so much!

* * *

June 29, 1945

The invitation to bare witness for the matrimony of Margaret Blaine and Peter Elwood reached a great majority of pure-bloods. The bride did take her time to specifically make sure that one family-who lived in the muggle world made it to her wedding day. Though that was besides the point, the day was about her and guests were more or less needed for a wedding day.

Margo was always beautiful, there never was a moment in her life where she wasn't. Today, the young heiress looked like a king's daughter out of a Renaissance painting-she was stunning.

Margo wore a pure white lace, off the shoulder, wedding dress with a long pleated, hoop skirt. Her platinum blonde hair was twisted into a plaited bun. She looked down at her left hand-Margo stared down at her engagement right. It was a cushion cut diamond with two square cut amethyst gems on either side of the diamond; the band was made out of pure gold with even more pave-set amethyst melted into band. A matching amethyst choker decorated Margo's neck as well (Peter knew Margo's favorite color was purple so he took the liberty of getting Margo's jewelry for the day custom made.) An ugly frown was on the beautiful bride's face.

Someone had given her less than pleasing news. "How the _ **fuck**_ did the baker mess up the wedding cake!"

Margo paced around in her bedroom (the wedding was being held on the premise of the Blaine estate). Margo's mother had went down to the kitchen to try and figure out how a cake that was specifically ordered three red velvet cake with white buttercream icing and eight tiers, became four caramelized vanilla cakes with ganache icing and only seven tiers.

"I can't do it today, I can't-nope. Tell Peter we cannot get married today!" Margaret almost cried. "I planned this wedding since sixth year! Why is this happening to me now?" She threw her gaze to person she designated to be her maid of honor, seated on the center of her bed, making a crown of flowers for her to wear. "I am fucking good person!"

"Such a good damn person," Ophelia replied back her voice flat as she kept her attention on finishing up the hydrangea crown (purple of course) by hand per Margo's request. _Thank Merlin for Kane and his family,_ Ophelia thought added the last flower to the flower crown by braiding it in tightly with the other flowers.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS SELENE?" Margo yelled finally as she remembered how that red headed bitch was so admandant on wearing white on the day of her wedding. "Adelina told me she saw that walking strawberry crumpet wearing a white silk off the shoulder gown! I need to see her before the wedding to make sure she's changed or I swear I will fuckin' cut that whore!"

 _Fuck me_. Ophelia sighed and got off the bed, walked to her friend, and placed the freshly made flower crown on Margo's head. The brunette loved her friend, to a point where Margo was more a sister than a best friend. However that did not mean she could stand anymore of Margo's yelling and conniption fits over everything since she got back on the twenty-sixth.

 _I understand why Margo's parent give into her every whim and want._

Ophelia was still trying to get over the extreme time differences between England and Kane's island, right now, she was running on perhaps maybe three hours of sleep. Literally, she got to experience living the same date twice without having to use a time turner and the weird time warp took a harsh hit on Ophelia's body.

She didn't even get to eat breakfast due to having to get dressed and ready for today's festivities-so Ophelia also trying to function on an empty stomach. Ophelia wanted the rest of the day to go smoothly and for Margo to just stop her bitching and enjoy her fucking wedding day. _Was that too much to ask for?_

"Where was Selene Sharpe last seen, Margo?" Ophelia asked heading towards the door-her hand already on the knob.

"Somewhere out in the yard, chatting it up with the guests." Margo sighed, "Why do you ask?"

There were no words used to answer Margo's question-just a the sound of a door slamming shut.

Ophelia was a sight to see with her short brown hair and her peachy tan. She wore no jewelry to go along with the v-neck, wine colored halter gown that allowed for a tasteful amount of her back to be displayed. Ophelia might have heard some former classmates of hers from Hogwarts try to get her attention as she passed by them.

She easily spotted Edmund by a large champagne fountain, a pretty red headed witch dressed in white right by his side and a glass of champagne firm in his hand. _Edmund should have at least had some sense to remind his date to not wore white on the day of his sister's wedding._ Ophelia walked straight up to the couple, a serious yet relax expression on her face.

"Darwin," Edmund greeted with a smile at the sight of the former Hufflepuff. "How nice to see you!" The French wizard almost added in how nice Ophelia looked but he was able to stop himself from commenting. Selene didn't like when he commented on other females in general.

Ophelia ignored Edmund and arched an eyebrow at Selene. Usually, she might not have come off as the even slightest bit aggressive or angry in many cases but Ophelia really didn't have the will to partake in any high society, pureblood bullshit. At least not an empty stomach.

"I see you were able to make it to the wedding." Selene narrowed her steely blue eyes at Ophelia, a cruel smirk on her face. "Back from learning primitive magic? Tell me, I want to laugh about something, that island you went to? Were all the men savages and the women there are half-fish?" Selene laughed before gesturing to the gown. "Tell me, how do I look? I was going for a summer innocence look with the class of a grown woman. This made out of the finest white silk from Asia and by the best pure-blood designer in Italy. Nothing like mudblood dresses you're so used to seeing, I bet."

 _I really don't have time for this shit._ Ophelia reached out with her hand and grabbed at what little fabric of Selene's dress that has supposedly to be the sleeve and gave it a strong tug. The former Hufflepuff ripped the sleeve clean off Selene's body and threw it down on the ground.

Ophelia wasn't done yet. She grabbed the glass of red champagne out of Edmund's hand and splashed it directly on the dress the red headed witch wore. Selene's once white and perfect dress was now stained and ruined.

Selene screamed in horror. Other attendees of the wedding stopped their small talk conversations to look at what the commotion was all about. One dark haired man in particular tuned in carefully when he recognized the female in a wine colored dress.

"For such a magical dress it sure tears and stains like a mudblood made dress, how funny." Ophelia deadpanned.

"Edmund," Selene whined as she fought tears from coming down her eyes. "Do something!"

"Yes, Edmund, do something." Ophelia stated. "Like make sure she doesn't wear white to your own sister's wedding." She returned the empty glass to Edmund.

Edmund said nothing as he grabbed the glass.

Ophelia walked away from the couple, a look of satisfaction on her face. _Margo would be happy, the wedding can start, I get food in my system, and then I can take a nap. I am a damn great maid of honor._

"You're learning how to be a bully now, is that what you've learned abroad?" A smooth and deep voice said as it walked side by side with her. "I never would have guessed it, Ophelia, because wow that was so out of character for you."

Ophelia let out a tired groan and tired to pick up her pace. "Nice to see you, Tom." She forced out, "But I don't have time for this right now."

Tom Riddle still walked along with Ophelia. "I'm just accompanying you back to where ever a cute little bridesmaid needs to be." His familiar tone of voice was smug, over confident, and still so condescending as ever.

"Why?" She shot back with a small underlying tone of irritation her tone.

Tom went straight to the point. "Remember May eighth?"

Ophelia scoffed, of course she remembered May eighth but why did Tom care. "Which May eighth? What year you mean? 1941, 1942? 1943, maybe?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I am talking about." Tom Riddle did not stop in chasing after Ophelia. He got as far as the outside of Margo's bedroom door, his hand on the door knob. "That neat little spell you did," He whispered dangerously into Ophelia's ear. "We're going to have a chat about it."

Ophelia said nothing at first as she looked at Tom. Her thoughts quiet. It took her about half a minute to think of something to say. "I'm not teaching you that spell, Tom."

"Please," A rough chuckle came from Tom's lips. "Like I want to learn a primitive spell from you. No, you know something. You've known since that night and I want to see what it is." The soft scent of cinnamon was slight on the witch he used to be so familiar, it seemed as if the scent was fading from her skin. He would never admit it-but he missed the scent of Ophelia sometimes.

"Tonight," Tom told Ophelia as he turned the door knob. "You and I will have a dance and we'll have a nice long discussion." The door finally opened, the sound of Margo pacing could easily be heard. Tom gave Ophelia a small caress on the exposed part of her back that the dress didn't cover. "Go on then. Be a good little helper for your friend." Before the handsome man completely took his hand off Ophelia's back, Tom leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Save a dance for me."

It would have been sweet, honestly, it should have been. If Tom Riddle still had more of a soul to offer (what little was left of his soul, Tom planned to split it even farther) maybe then there would a sweet sincerity in saving a dance for the heir of Slytherin.

Ophelia took a deep breath, straightened out her posture, and walked into Margo's room. She didn't really have the time to overthink everything little about Tom's actions.

"Selene's going to change her clothes." The brunette witch looked around Margo's bedroom and picked up two flower bouquets. Ophelia handed over the bouquet of white roses and purple calla lilies to Margo, while keeping her bouquet of wisterias in her grip. "You ready to be Missus Margaret Andrea Elwood?"

Margo nodded. A look of pure excitement mixed with overwhelming stress flickered dangerously in the pure-blooded witch's blue eyes. "No, the question should be if Peteris Xavier Elwood is ready for me-because ready or not-here comes the bride."

A small smile was on Ophelia's face, she reached her hand out towards Margo's shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. "Let's get on with this then, eh?"

* * *

Ophelia was quite possibly beyond exhausted and perhaps closer to death by the time the main portion of the wedding ceremony was done. _The ring exchange is done! Thank Merlin!_ Ophelia stayed deathly still as the closing remarks echoed all around her. Margo and Peter kissed at the altar, classical music soon rang loudly from every angle of the Blaine manor.

A sigh of relief escaped Ophelia's lip,a shy smile on her face as she and William walk behind the bride and groom. With ease and under the demand of Margo, the Russian wizard and the half-blood witch linked their arms together.

"Holy fuck!" William whispered-his tone tired, strained, and irritated.

"I know," Ophelia whispered back. "We made it through the hardest part of today."

"How much of a mess was Margo before the wedding?" William asked. "Peter didn't sleep until ten this morning and only woke up forty minutes before the wedding. He thought he'd slept through the wedding and almost had a heart attack. Peter wouldn't even drink _**water**_ to calm his nerves."

Ophelia scoffed. "That is nothing compared to Margo. She's been up since the arse crack dawn and therefore, I was up since dawn. I haven't eaten at all today."

"I've been stress eating all day." William replied.

"Stress?" Ophelia whispered back. "Why in God's name are you stressed?"

"Because Peter being stressed out, stresses me out!" William stated as if that was common knowledge. "You remember how uptight Peter can get, don't you?"

The half-blooded witch spotted an enchanted camera floating towards their general direction.

"Smile." Ophelia commanded as she nudge William lightly on his side; immediately tossing her shy smile for friendly, bigger smile. The best man of the groom stopped in his tracks and gave his best smile.

A camera flash went off, temporarily blinding the two for a slight second. The walk from the altar behind Margo and Peter was done with.

"I don't know if we'll make it through this night, Pipa." William deadpanned. "Weddings are too serious and they scare me."

"Commitment scares you, William." Ophelia's eyes roamed around the pretty and extensive yard of the Blaine property and the guests with nameless faces. Her eyes easily landed on a handsome young man with brown eyes and dark hair. Tom was speaking to an older and rather slimy looking man with a rather mean looking expression plastered to his face. "Why is Riddle even here?"

William shrugged. "The more the merrier."

Ophelia did not like that statement but she said nothing else. Her pale green eyes scanned the many guests in the crowd again. "Catch up with you later, yeah?" Ophelia pulled away from William.

"I'll either be by a champagne fountain or hiding under a table with a bottle of whiskey." William looked down at his wrist watch. "I'll be doing that for maybe, forty-five minutes or an hour or more maybe."

"Cheers to that." Ophelia took off and went to the table she saw her family at. With ease, Ophelia pulled a chair out from the table and sat down clumsily by her mother. A heavy sigh and a tired yawn mixed together as they escaped her lips.

"So…" Wendy Darwin started out carefully but stiffly. "What's this I heard about you ruining one of your friend's dress?" A judgemental glare present in Wendy's eyes.

Ophelia huffed. "She's not my friend, mum. Also, I didn't ruin the dress. I made it more appropriate for the wedding."

Wendy shook her head at her daughter, "If you cannot act like a grown up then we should all leave now."

Ben Darwin rolled his eyes at his wife. "Oh, like you haven't done anything petty your entire life."

Poppa leaned in to whispered to his granddaughter. "Your mother is extremely petty. It's almost funny."

"Anyways," Wendy gave all members of the Darwin family the 'mum glare', making sure it stayed the longest on her daughter. "Behave or we're all leaving early!"

Ophelia shrugged it off and sat quietly at the table with her family. A feeling that she was being watched inched on Ophelia, the gaze burned on her shoulders and on her back. Ophelia closed her eyes and steadied her breathing; she focused on the space beyond her. Easily, everything filled themselves with a precise image in her mind of what was going on around her. She already knew who was watching her; she saw him walking towards the table. Her eyes opened as she felt a hand place itself on the back of her chair.

"Hello." The voice introduced itself to the members of the table. "I know you may not know me, I'm Abraxas Malfoy. I was a classmate of Ophelia's at Hogwarts."

Ophelia turned around to get a better look at the male who introduce himself to her parents. A solid look of bewilderment obviously present on her face; she tilted her head off to the side. She wasn't sure what to say to him, since the last they'd spoke he kidnapped her.

"Well, how may we help you then?" Ben Darwin arched an eyebrow at the pure-blooded man. "Did you need something?"

"I was just going to ask Ophelia for a dance before dinner is served." Abraxas was a little surprised when the two non-magic users (Ophelia's parents) didn't jump on the chance to have their daughter dance with a pure-blood wizard of his stature. Did they not know how many other parents would take up the chance for their daughter to dance with him? "It'll only be one dance before dinner, I swear."

"Ask her then, man." Gregory stated reasonably. "Ask Ophelia, not us." The old man studied the Malfoy boy carefully-he knew about their family-every witch and wizard knew about the Malfoy family. "Things are a bit different in families that aren't just pure-bloods."

Abraxas was definitely not expecting that. He cleared his throat, pretended nothing happened, and looked directly at brunette witch. "Ophelia, would it be alright if I bothered you for one dance?" He held out a hand for Ophelia to take, there was a look of urgency in his that was hard to miss.

Hesitantly, Ophelia took Abraxas hand and followed him towards the designated dance floor (specifically meant for the outdoor wedding, per Margo's request). She placed one hand on his shoulder and the other hand went in to hold one of Abraxas' hands.

"Come a bit closer," Abraxas said. "I have something to tell you."

Ophelia shook her head, "I think I am fine from this-."

Abraxas went ahead and brought his body closer to hers; there was less inch between their chests. "Darwin, I need your cooperation right now." He began to lead the dance between the two of them.

"Uh," Ophelia easily followed the dance steps and rhythm of the music. "I'm sorry but what is this about?"

"You saved my skin once and I am merely returning the favor." The pure-blooded wizard hastily looked around the dance floor, he didn't see anyone he had to worry too much about. "Do not thank me, do not feel like we're friends, do not feel I am doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I'm only settling a score."

"Malfoy," The brunette went on. "You're speaking way too seriously for a wedding and honestly I am not in the right state of mind for such stern conversation."

The young man with pure blonde hair rolled his eyes. "I don't give a shit- so listen carefully. Whatever it is Lord-um-." Malfoy stopped in the middle of his sentence to correct the wording. "Whatever it is Riddle thinks you know; I'm telling you now Darwin, you don't know anything." He spun Ophelia around gently before continuing on with their dance. "If you can manage to avoid Riddle the rest of the night, do it. I doubt you can so for your sake, remember: you know abso-fucking-lutely nothing."

Pale green eyes combed over Abraxas' facial features and an all too real expression of solemnity was painted cooly on the pure-blooded wizard's face. Ophelia only furrowed her eyebrows at the very specific request, a wrinkle appeared on her forehead because of it. "What are you talking about?"

She would have pulled away from Abraxas but that would have made a scene and Ophelia had already made one scene for the day. Instead, in a rushed action, she pulled Malfoy's body closer to hers. "Malfoy," Ophelia whispered, "What are you talking about?"

He shook his head at the half-blooded witch, he took note of how the music faded out and how other guests rushed off to a table for dinner. Abraxas pulled away from Ophelia, he acted as if holding onto a half-blood any longer was the same as coming into contact with a leper. "Enjoy the rest of your night, Darwin." Abraxas backed away from her and calmly walked away into the crowd of other guests hustling to get into a seat for dinner.

How would anyone enjoy their night after being told that?

Ophelia reluctantly accepted the rather cryptic and possibly alarming advice from the pure-blooded wizard. An uneasy sense of responsibility and loyalty to stay until Peter and Margo's was strong in Ophelia's conscience, it mixed with her emotions of being sleep deprived. _This night isn't about you...this night isn't about you..._ She put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes for no longer than a minute. _Keep your cool and just get on with the night._

Her hand dropped from her mouth, her eyes fluttered opened, and a smile that was hard to miss and hard to tell was obviously fake made an appearance on Ophelia's face. With strong and false flare of confidence in her walk and with highly concentrated grace Ophelia wasn't born with, she made her way to the champagne fountain.

Ophelia made it a point to make multiple and frequent trips the the champagne fountain.

* * *

"Pipa!" Margo chirped happily as her and Peter danced with each other as upbeat swing music blared throughout the party.

"Missus Elwood," Ophelia sang back as she and William bounced and danced with the roaring music.

"Can you lot believe it?" William yelled with pure energy in his voice (and the scent of vodka as well). "We're all officially adults-look, look, look-you two are married." William pulled away from Ophelia and kindly wrapped Margo and Peter in warm hug. William pointed to himself, "I am a functioning wizard with a job at the Ministry for Merlin's sake!" He then gestured to Ophelia, "Then there's our Pipa-trying her best in life."

It didn't sound as grand or rewarding as a job or marriage, but Ophelia knew William meant what he said about her in the sweetest and complimentary way possible.

Peter laughed at William. "You're drunk, mate."

"Well yes! Because you're not!" William shot back.

"Oh," Margo's face lit up as she remembered something, the word 'Ministry' slapped her memory into action. "My family's throwing a luncheon to support the 'Witches in the Ministry Workforce' program next month, and this will be my first time organizing and hosting such an event. " Margo went on, "You'd be a big help if you invited any of your friends in the Ministry or asked your parents to attend the event, William."

"I'll make sure there is a pricey bottle of champagne there for you if you attend." Peter said as he placed a shoulder on William's shoulder.

Usually Margo, Peter and William's interaction and conversations never left Ophelia feeling so alienated from them. She'd never even heard of the 'Witches in the Ministry Workforce'-she didn't even know if witches working in the Ministry was common or not.

Ophelia wanted to ask about what exactly the luncheon was supposed represent or she'd even ask if Margo wanted her help in running the event but a she felt too embarrassed to. So Ophelia decided it'd be best to excuse herself from the conversation.

"I think I'm going to lay down, I have a headache from lack of sleep." The brunette said with a soft tone of voice, she brought a hand to her forehead and messaged it for a brief minute for the sake of showing. "I won't be gone long, okay?"

Margo nodded and grabbed Ophelia's hands. "Rest up then, Pipa. If I see your parents, I'll let them know you're in one of the guest rooms."

Peter patted Ophelia's head, "Sweet dreams, Pipa."

William pointed towards the direction on the Blaine manor. "Do you need me to walk you over?"

"I'll be fine, thanks though." Ophelia smiled at her friends, pulled her hands away from Margo, and gave them a wave as she walked away. "See you all when I wake up."

* * *

At first, Tom thought Ophelia was busy throwing up in the ladies' powder room. He kept an eye on the former Hufflepuff for most of the duration of the reception. He might have lost sight of her for a brief moment, when he was speaking to a harsh wizard by the name of Caractacus Burke getting some insight on Hepzibah Smith.

Though, that was hours ago and he had found Ophelia again after his conversation ended with Burke.

Tom quietly stalked around the grand yard, he scanned the champagne fountain and the many tables out that offered wedding cakes and other sweet treats for the guests-but he didn't see Ophelia. His brown eyes set on on the Blaine manor and without any time to hesitate, he sneaked away without drawing any attention to himself.

It took the heir of Slytherin close to thirty minutes to find Ophelia. _The amount of guest rooms in this place is ridiculous!_

He found her laid out on a queen size bed. Ophelia was sleeping on the left side of her body. She still wore her bridesmaid dress as she slept, her heels were kicked off and placed thoughtfully by the bed.

For a brief moment, Tom found himself studying Ophelia's sleeping form. Not once had he ever stop and looked at someone enter a blissful state of sleep-especially not Ophelia, not even when they'd be intimate.

Carefully, Tom sat on the bed next to the sleeping lady. He took his shoes off and shrug off his suit jacket and took off his neck tie. He laid down next Ophelia and confidently placed a hand on her shoulder and shooked the half-blooded witch repeatedly until he heard her groan.

"Wake up." Tom snapped as he still had his hand on her shoulder. "Now."

Another groan escaped Ophelia's mouth. She was slowly waking up.

"Ophelia," Tom warned. "Wake up." The heir of Slytherin got on his knees while on the bed and he straddled over Ophelia. Using his hands he forced Ophelia's right shoulder down to the bed and fixed her body so she'd lay face up. He then moved on hand over to her face, his pointer finger and thumb placed firmly on Ophelia's chin and tilted her head up. "You missed our dance, my _dear_."

Ophelia placed a hand on Tom's wrist that kept her head in a fixed position. "I don't want to dance anymore tonight." She felt Tom's calm pulse on her the surface of her fingertips before she removed her hand. "Beside, why would you ever want to be seen touching a filthy witch with all the eligible pure-blooded witches to pick from."

"Because you might know something that they do not." Tom stated pointedly. "So spill it. Does the sad, little Ophelia Darwin know something about her good, old friend?"

 _You're not my friend_. Ophelia thought angrily as she shifted under Tom's body. Without much else to think on the matter, Ophelia made sure to guard her mind and any other thoughts she wouldn't want Tom to have access to.

She tried to get comfortable and she noticed now, that she was actually felt quite cold in the guest room. "Could you pull the duvet up, please?" Ophelia's voice sounded far off as she started to slip back into a state of sleep. " Please...I'm cold."

 _For fuck's sake!_ Tom didn't know why he complied with Ophelia wishes, but he did. He pulled a thick blanket over their bodies, allowing himself to be put into a smaller more personal situation as he still straddled over the brunette. "You're lucky my patience is in good supply today." _Only because she hasn't been around you the last year and hasn't had the chance the wear your patience out!_

Ophelia sighed and looked Tom in the eyes. _Oh goodness_ , Ophelia whined in her head. Tom really was too handsome than he deserved to be. _Whatever darkness there is in him, is easily hidden by his all too suave looks._ She brought a hand to Tom's face and merely caressed his cheekbone with her thumb. _You could tell him the truth...or you can lie…_

"So what do you know?" Tom's voice was neither aggressive nor kind. His brown eyes bored down into hers-his mind had been made should Ophelia give an answer that exposed him. That spell of hers that she did, whether he wanted to admit it or not, it touched what little of his soul was left...and it scared him how easily someone could do that and invade him in such a manner.

"Nothing." Ophelia lied in a blink. "That spell doesn't tell me much-it doesn't even do much."

Tom narrowed his eyes at her, "Then what would even be a point of a spell if it doesn't do much?" Without giving a hint that he was using _Legilimency_ on Ophelia, he merely leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers. _Nothing.._.Tom noted. _Nothing's going on her mind...it's only quiet._

"The point of it is, it's supposed to tell the one casting the spell how you feel." Ophelia pulled that lie out like a muggle magician would pull a rabbit out of their hat. "I felt you were angry with me...about the kissing comment." It wouldn't have taken a genius to tell that any male would have been upset should they found out a female they possessed strong feelings for, kissed random, other men.

A strong feeling of disappointment boiled throughout Tom's body-that feeling of disappointment almost pushed him to experience anger. He was sure that Ophelia knew something, just something that hinted at his true intentions and goals….But she didn't.

"So you spent about a year out and about away from Hogwarts to learn a spell about how people feel?" Tom tried not seethe at the revelation. "You could have come back to Hogwarts, you know." His voice was trained. "I could have gotten you back in, Ophelia. I told you!"

Ophelia shrugged it off. "It doesn't matter, Tom."

"Doesn't matter? It doesn't matter?" The heir of Slytherin, scoffed at that. "You know what-you're right, it doesn't matter." He wanted to yell and scream and argue with Ophelia but he didn't. The unfamiliar of sense of defeat was not something Tom liked, but if he couldn't control that-he could easily control something else.

Ophelia wasn't perfect, she never was and she never will be and Tom always would be aroused by that.

The handsome young man closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers and calmed himself. He wanted her but at the same time, should he defiled his body with a half-blood?

"If you want to kiss me," Ophelia stated slowly, her voice sounded seducative yet so far off as it was still laced with sleep. "You can."

Tom didn't move he just laid with Ophelia, their heads still close together. Her body felt warm and soft.

"Or if you want to leave you can, Tom." Ophelia shifted away from the heir of Slytherin. "You can stay, you can sleep, or you can-."

Tom Riddle brushed lips against Ophelia's, silencing her words and stopping her from getting farther away from him. He tangled his hands into her short hair (he missed it though, when it was much longer) and pressed his pelvis close to hers.

Ophelia went along with the kiss; her consent in the form of her hands roaming up and down Tom's back as their lips greeted each other. Excitement filled their bodies since neither of them could remember when the last time they'd been touch romantically.

One pair of lips pulled away from the other and began to kiss and bite lightly on the nape of their partner's neck. One hand slips away from short hair and sneaks down to feel on his partner's ass and the back of her thighs.

A groan escaped from Tom's lips as he felt his pants tightened, he pulled away from Ophelia but he was still over her, hovering. The duvet was thrown off their body. He ran a hand through his black hair and let out a heavy sigh.

 _Half-blood...she's a half-blood not a pure blood...Do you want that? Do you want filth touching you so intimately again just to ruin something the next chance she gets?_

A small and quiet thought soon followed after the first. _No_ , Tom told himself as unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it off his body, down to the floor of the guest room. _I only want her...at least for the night._

Ophelia propped herself up on her elbows, careful not to kick Tom in her slight movement. Her heart was calm in her chest as she hiked her dress up to her hips.

Tom's eyes went wide at the sight of just how naked Ophelia was under her dress. "You're not wearing any under garments?" His pants felt tighter than usual. "How crude." _Though it does make things go by easier._ Tom unzipped the fly of his dress slacks and he carefully took his cock out and stroked it.

"Hot summer night," Ophelia started off as if she stating an easy fact. "Thick dress fabric and I'd be sweating like a pig in an oven." She laid back down, flat on her back and complete look of comfort on her features. A subtle and lusty look to Ophelia, maybe even a hidden sight of regret buried deep in those pale green eyes of hers.

Tom went ahead and positioned his throbbing member at Ophelia's opening; she was already wet for him and all it took a subtle moan from the witch to get Tom to start thrusting into her.

Without even thinking, the young couple had engaged in the act of sex without fully undressing (for the second time in their history of being intimate) and a heavy wave of heat was shared between the two of them.

Ophelia wrapped her hands around Tom's neck and captured his lips in a hungry kiss. An action done to keep her from talking and letting him know that she missed him.

Tom pulled his lips off the brunette and instead placed them on her shoulder and began to kiss and bite on her peachy and tan skin.

There was a deep and primal need for both of them to get what they wanted from sex, and when they both reached the climatic peak a quiet familiarity settled into the room.

Ophelia hiked her dress down and let out a sigh of contentment; Tom found himself lying right next to the half-blood he was so conflicted about bedding at first.

They didn't cuddled up next to each other; Tom didn't wrap his arms around Ophelia as he pulled the duvet back over them as the heat that once covered their body was now replaced with chilly air. No one said 'good night' or 'sweet dreams' as they both tried to get comfortable in the queen sized bed.

However, Tom did give a kiss on the back of Ophelia's neck before he pulled away to sleep on the side of the bed that was deemed his. While, in the middle of the night Ophelia would absentmindedly run her hand through Tom's dark and thick hair when she felt him fret in his sleep.

Though neither Tom Riddle or Ophelia Darwin would properly address their intimate rendezvous the next morning.

They'd go on to pretend that it never happened and that they never found pleasure in each other's company as adults.


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.

There's been a time jump as mentioned before. I played around with the time lines in regards to hopefully make this series flow better. So don't hate me for that please.

I want to say a great and big thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. Please keep reviewing if you can, it lets me know that people are reading and are liking the story well enough for me to update. I also like to know your thoughts on the chapters. Thank you for your time and thank you for favoriting or following Darwin's Plight. A big thank you once again for everyone who drops reviews for me to read!

* * *

October 19, 1948

 ** _To Ophelia,_**

 ** _Working for Borgin and Burkes is definitely less than ideal but you'd be surprised how much pure-bloods come through here. As you know, I've been trying make valuable connections with the clientele as of recently. I've made myself closely acquainted with a woman by the name of Hepzibah Smith. She is a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff._**

 ** _I don't plan on working in this damned shop for much longer. I've applied to work at Hogwarts-there is an opening position as a professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts. If there is an available position now, I am sure they'd need someone to fill in immediately._**

 ** _Anyways, next time you write, stop sending it through the muggle post system. Borrow someone's owl or delivery pigeon or or packaging sea turtle or whatever people use wherever you are._**

 ** _Regards,_**

 ** _-Tom Riddle._**

* * *

October 27, 1948

 ** _To Ophelia,_**

 ** _I didn't get the position at Hogwarts I told you about in that last letter. I was expecting Dippet to conduct the interview and go about the hiring process; it was instead Dumbledore I had to interact with. I spoke to Malfoy about that not too long ago, he has some cousins who'll be attending Hogwarts shortly after this year. Through Malfoy, I've found out that Dumbledore's going to be Hogwarts' next headmaster._**

 ** _I don't know about you but I for one am extremely glad that we didn't have to suffer the experience of Dumbledore as our Headmaster._**

 ** _Again-use a damn owl! Your letters get back to me too slowly._**

 ** _Regards,_**

 ** _-Tom Riddle_**

* * *

November 1, 1948

 ** _Ophelia,_**

 ** _I've decided to leave the employment of Borgin and Burkes. I've decided it's time for a change in scenery. I'm moving to Albania for a while, I won't say if it'll be a long or short stay._**

 ** _However, I do have a proposition to run by you in regards to moving to Albania. I'll only be in England for one week more after I send this to you. Meet with me at The Leaky Cauldron at three in the afternoon on November sixth if possible, so we can speak._**

 ** _I have yet to receive your latest letter and I intend for this to be the last letter I write to you. Don't write back, I'll see you soon enough._**

 ** _-Tom_**

* * *

Margo's eyes lingered on the last letter; her grip on it tightened and her heart beated in a pace that could have matched a tango rhythm. A strong sense of fulfilment carried itself through Margo's soul. The blonde witch almost wanted to cry at the overwhelming amount of joy in her body. Margo wasn't sure if she'd normally cry about a letter or if the pregnancy hormones were especially strong today.

"Pipa!" Margo couldn't contain the excitement in her voice. "When you told me you were corresponding with Tom, I thought you said it was casual." She waved the letter from November first in the air. "If he wants to propose to you-that isn't casual!"

"He said he has a proposition, Margo." Ophelia placed a cigarette in between her lips and lit it up by using her wand. Smoking had slowly become a habit of hers since (give or take) last year. Ophelia picked her first cigarette up in a little jazz club in her time at Chicago when she went to visit a coven of witches. _That was quite the culture shock._

"Proposition sounds more like a business transaction. As for proposal, well," Ophelia took a nice and long drag from her cigarette before blowing out a ring of smoke. "You know."

Being twenty-two years old meant different things for the two witches. Regardless of how the two witches still spoke and got along with each other, they were in distinctly dissimilar points in their life.

To start , Margo Elwood had been married for almost three years. She had made a lovely home from the estate that Peter's family gave to them as a wedding present. Before getting pregnant, Margo was something of a social promoter or planner within the pure-blooded community-which more of less meant she threw parties for agencies and organizations that wanted to branch out, make connections, raise some money and get a few more members. The pay was extremely nice as well since she negotiated her wages.

Margo gained a sense of pride being able to add more wealth to what she and Peter already had.

As for Ophelia Darwin, she'd taken a knack for roaming in and out and around places. One month studying magic of Fiji, then the next two weeks learning in Japan, and another whole month back visiting Kane on his island. She probably favored American states over anything else as she was always popping up in one state or another. She'd ventured into Chicago, Illinois; stroll into New Orleans, Louisiana; then whenever Ophelia felt like it-she'd have a coffee break with Ruth on the Navajo Reservation in Colorado.

On the topic of her income, she took to working in clubs and bars alike (muggle or otherwise). It didn't give her as much money as Margo, but it gave her enough to get by and Ophelia was happy with that.

Margo huffed and threw the letters down on the sofa cushion and placed her hands on her very pregnant stomach, she only seven months along. "Please get married, Pipa. Then have kids so my kids can grow up with yours." The blonde witch then pushed an agenda at her long time friend. "Possibly, even have our children marry one another if we plan their age gap out in advanced."

"Who is getting married?" A feminine voice rang out as she entered the parlor. Her thick black hair was styled and sectioned out into careful, tiny, and beautiful braids; her skin was a shade of warm ebony; and in her arms was a sleeping baby girl who couldn't have been much older than possibly six months. This witch's name was Zyra Zolotov, wife to none other than William Zolotov.

Margo flashed a smile at Zyra. "Pipa is!"

Zyra only looked to Ophelia with one eyebrow arched while rubbing her child's back. "Is this true? You're getting married?"

The brunette witch shook her head no as she tried to enjoy her cigarette. "Zee, you know how Margo is."

Margo replied with, "No, Zee. You know how Pipa can be."

"And you two know how I can be over trivial and vague conversations." Zyra rolled her eyes at the two women; she grew up in South Africa and never did she take part in such prolonged chitter chatter until she met Margo. It got worse whenever Margo pressed on Ophelia in conversation to admit or confess to things Ophelia wasn't even sure she had anything to admit to or confess. "Speak now or I'll shorten my visit with the both of you."

Ophelia put her cigarette out on an ashtray and blew the smoke away from the sleeping baby as best as she could. "I have to meet with an old classmate today at three, that's all."

Margo narrowed her eyes at the half-blooded witch. "Excuse her Zyra, she seemed to have left out the part that this classmate is drop dead gorgeous, smart, charming and a gentleman." The blonde witch then added, "Him and her used to always study together."

"Margaret." Ophelia's voice was firm but not aggressive. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Please." She recalled the last time Margo tried to push her and Tom together-well-she didn't remember it _exactly_ but it left an ugly feeling Ophelia when she did try to remember.

Zyra looked down at her daughter who continued to sleep the afternoon away. "Your aunties really are something else, nay?"

Ophelia's eyes lingered innocently on Zyra and her baby before her sight drifted over to Margo who was still rubbing her pregnant stomach.

The brunette smiled, unsure but envious at the same time.

* * *

"Is everything all set for Albania?" Tom's eyes never left the article from the Daily Prophet when he spoke to Dolohov. The heir of Slytherin sat comfortably in Dolohov's office chair with his legs crossed on the top of the very elegant oak desk. The topic of Hepzibah Smith's death was all over the newspapers and Tom couldn't help but relish at how easy and effortless it had been to get away with her death.

"Almost, my Lord." Dolohov tensed up as he tried to give the heir of Slytherin the reasons why everything wasn't all perfect for him. "I've been working particularly hard at the Ministry as of late in order to get a promotion-you see-my wife is due to have our child here soon and-."

Tom rolled his eyes and spat some words out at Dolohov. "I couldn't care any less about your personal life, Dolohov." He flipped the newspaper over and skimmed along for something to catch his attention. "Promote and climb up the work ladder at the Ministry all you want-it'll benefit me one day. Remember though, I gave you one job and if that job isn't completed by the time I reach Albania-well-it'd be a shame if _you_ suddenly disappeared and were unable to support your wife and child."

Dolohov paled immediately; a full scale plan formulated in his mind. He was going to call off work related issues for the day, he'd say his wife was needing him home, and finish the arrangements for Lord Voldemort's time in Albania. "I promise, my Lord, I'll get everything done by tonight if I must."

"Good." The handsome teen turned into a handsome man who was colder and crueler than ever. His brown eyes looked over to the grandfather clock in Dolohov's little home office. _I should better get a move on._

Tom tossed the issue of the Daily Prophet lazily on the floor before he stood up as he straightened his shirt and suit jacket out, he tossed a glare at Dolohov. "You are to report to me when you've finished settling everything. Understood?"

Dolohov nodded his head to signal that he did in fact, understand what was being asked of him. A burst of a sound close to thunder rang out through Dolohov's office; he let out a sigh of relief as he walked out one room to enter another when he realized the heir of Slytherin apparated away from him and his family.

He peeked into his bedroom and relaxed at the sight of his pregnant wife sleeping soundly. Dolohov was going to get everything and more sorted before the night ended.

* * *

There's a lot of places Ophelia's never been to: Paris, Spain, Berlin, The Leaky Cauldron.

So when arriving to The Leaky Cauldron, it wasn't what she was expecting to be honest. She expected a cafe, with adequate lighting, maybe some flowers in vases in the center of the tables, possibly a live band. Something modern and up to date like every other little restaurant, club, or bar she'd been too. Ophelia decided to seat herself at a round table with only two chairs, she decided that while The Leaky Cauldron wasn't ugly or anything, it was underwhelming.

For a moment, the half-blooded witch contemplated if she should have her third cigarette for the day but she never got the chance to even reach for the addictive stick tucked away in her purse.

"Sorry if I am a few minutes late. You haven't been waiting long, have you?" The chair across from Ophelia slid against the floor of The Leaky Cauldron and it creaked slightly as weight was applied to it. Tom Riddle sat down and held two fingers up in the air for the barmaid to fix them some tea.

The brunette shook her head. "No, I only got here." She decided to forget about having a smoke with Tom present. Her eyes drank Tom's image in, not surprisingly his hair was well groomed and well coiffed. His clothes looked new, clean, and tailored specifically for him in the form of a navy blue suit with jade colored tie. Which made Ophelia happy for him-she remembered easily in their Hogwarts year how plain and often worn out his clothes look on him.

Something about Tom seemed more...aggressive in a sense.

 _Maybe 'grown up' is what I need to be thinking,_ Ophelia told herself as she continued to study the man who sat across from her. Though, she couldn't completely deny there something in the man's eyes that made Ophelia feel like maybe she shouldn't have come out to meet Tom. _You're a grown up too now, imagine how different you seem to him._

Tom was just as obvious as Ophelia when it came to him looking at her. (He really never was subtle around her.) His brown eyes carefully scanned through Ophelia, as if he wanted to commit the present image of her to his memory. The half-blood's hair was the first thing he noticed and he was thankful the length of chocolate brown hair reached to at least Ophelia's breast-her hair was curled to perfection and framed her face in a delicate manner. Her body was covered in an elbow sleeved, black and mauve railene dress-but her outfit seemed unfinished, as if she was missing a matching hat or a headscarf.

The barmaid Tom motioned to earlier dropped two cups of tea and a kettle at their table before either one of them decided to speak.

Ophelia spoke first. "I'll be honest, when I wrote to you earlier this year I didn't really think you'd reply." _Much less continue to write to me._

Back some months ago, William had written to Ophelia saying that he ran into Tom at an engagement party for the Nott family. Tom asked the drunk wizard some questions in regards to her. William being who he was (under the influence of alcohol at that moment) couldn't remember Ophelia's state of well being and where in the world she was from their last letter to each other-he decided to write Ophelia about it and insist that she write to Tom herself.

Tom shrugged and poured a cup of tea from himself. "I've been told that's what people do when they want to keep in touch with someone." _Or to keep tabs on a resource._

"Is that why you wanted to meet up, Tom?" Ophelia allowed herself to put both her elbows on the table as she cradled her face in her hands. "Because you want to stay in touch?"

"Please don't think me that sentimental over you," Tom rolled his eyes and took a sip of his tea before continuing with the conversation. "I have a proposition for you, either you take or you don't." The heir of Slytherin phrased it cooly and uncomplicatedly.

For the most part he'd gotten over the fact that Ophelia didn't see who or how he really was that night when she confessed to knowing nothing the night of Margo and Peter's wedding. Truth be told, it wasn't complicated for him but it would be if she gave him the wrong answer (otherwise known as the answer he didn't want.)

 _Even if Ophelia gives me the wrong answer, I'll give her the correct answer anyhow._ Tom had this all planned out.

"Let's hear it then," Ophelia poured a cup of tea for herself. She nearly flinched at how foreign tea tasted to her after having coffee as her go beverage since traveling so often. A stifled cough escaped her lips as she tried to speak. "As long as it is within my ability I suppose I can help you before you go, Tom." She placed her elbows back on the table and ignored her cup of tea.

The half-blooded witch couldn't remember when was the last time she'd help Tom but she did remember at that time they were sixth years and she was rather frightened while having a sense of obedience towards him. She ended up nearly catering to his every whim out of that fear and the loyalty that came out of it.

 _I'm sure it's probably something minor._ Ophelia reasoned with herself. _Like loaning him four galleons in exchange for a book or something...Even though, I am sure he knows I'm not much of an avid reader._

There was a feeling of a heavy heat in the center of Tom's chest as tried not to think too critically about what he was going to say _. You need her because of her experience from traveling abroad._ Tom cleared his throat and took another drink of his tea. _As much as you hate to admit it-she'd be able to help you in Albania when gathering information from the locals better than you could. If Dumbledore comes hunting for you, she'd still be reliable enough as an alibi because all she has done the past few years is skip around and travel!_

"Ophelia, I'd like for you to accompany me to Albania."

Ophelia took her elbows off the table and leaned away, a look of distress came to her face as well as slight blush that reddened her cheeks. A _man_ , a grown-ass-man, asked her to travel with him to _**Albania.**_ In a mixture of shock, honesty, and panic all Ophelia said the first thing that came to mind.

"I-I-I don't even know where _**Albania**_ is." Ophelia stated. _Even if I did, would I even want to go there?_ Another sentence flew out of her mouth without being thought over first. "I have plans to go to Mexico and learn about their brujer-bru-bru-." Ophelia sighed and tried to pronounce the word again. "Brujeria."

"Then go to Mexico after Albania." Tom stated evenly as he looked Ophelia directly in her eyes. He wasn't going to give up easily so he added a little lie in for Ophelia."I'd only need your company for a month."

"My company?" Ophelia tried to keep the volume of her voice low as her heart suddenly skipped multiple beats. She wasn't going to let her emotions get ahead of her-she was more than certain that Tom wasn't asking her hand in marriage.

What baffled Ophelia, was how not once did Tom ever try to develop their dynamic beyond the title of 'classmates-who-used to-sometimes-fuck'. Now, bloody now, he was trying to skip the process of becoming respectable friends; to adults in a functioning relationship; straight to vacation/travel buddies.

 _That isn't how things work out in normal circumstances!_

"You're in my company now, trust me, you'll be bored of me after the first few days. You know, like in school!" Ophelia shot up from her chair, grabbed her purse and told a lie to get out of the situation. "I have to go. I have dinner with my parents."

"I'll go with you and we can continue our discussion at your parent's place." Tom followed that statement with a sentence that held false consideration in regards to the rest of the Darwin family. "We could even get your mother and father's approval too if need be."

"No thanks, Tom. However, I am sure you could someone else to help you!" Her shoes clicked with a quick and muted sound against the floorboards as she zipped away from the former Slytherin prefect. "Best of luck, ta-ta."

If Tom hadn't seen Ophelia use this technique to get away from him the same way a mouse would scurry from a snake, he might have let her go and found another female to help him. He wasn't going to though. He calmly placed a handful of sickles on the table before standing up and going after Ophelia-she wouldn't get very far.

He specifically picked this particular pub on Charing Cross Road for a reason. Ophelia Darwin had never been in the area before and that alone would stall her from getting away. Also due to muggles being present in the general vicinity, she couldn't apparate away to wherever she wanted to without the chance of being fined for practicing magic in a space so accessible to muggles...Tom Riddle had it _**all**_ planned out.

The heir of Slytherin knew that control was key; to act normal, and to make sure witnesses saw him act reasonable should a certain wizard find Tom suspicious for whatever reason. He walked out, a concentrated finesse in his step. The heir of Slytherin caught a glimpse of Ophelia trying to look for street signs to guide her back to West Berkshire. In ten quick steps Tom was at Ophelia's side; he grabbed her hand and held on tightly.

"Tom, we are not doing this." Ophelia hissed as she tried to yank her hand out his hold; she felt Tom pull the hand he had captive in his hold closer to his thigh in a secure manner. "For Christ's sake, _Riddle_! We are adults now!"

" _Darwin_ ," Tom effortlessly yanked Ophelia's closer to him as he pulled her along for a walk down an alley with no witnesses, a dead end, and where Ophelia was still unfamiliar with. "I know we are adults, I tried to approach the situation like an adult with you-."

Ophelia was still fighting to get out Tom's handle but she still found it appropriate to interrupt him as he spoke. "An adult wouldn't ask someone they dislike to travel with them to Albania-."

"It's not a matter of dislike you or liking you!" Tom snapped as he continued to force Ophelia to take steps further into the alley way. With one hand on the brunette witch, he used his free hand to reach into his suit jacket's pocket and discreetly pull out his wand. "It's about wanting to use you! Is it so terrible that I actually find you useful?" Without wasting any more of his breath to explain anything else to Ophelia, he pushed her into a hidden and old corner of the alleyway. His wand placed at the base of her throat.

Ophelia's pale green eyes widened at first with confusion before switch over to a look of shock. Her body went hot as her heart raced and a combination of adrenaline, terror, and distress. She replayed Tom's words about using her in mind and that also twisted her gut in away that made Ophelia understand why all this time he allowed himself to even keep her around... _He used me as a tool in whatever way he saw fit…_

If the former Hufflepuff was in her right mind she would have cried, she would have felt her heart shatter like an old antique vase hitting the wall, she would have gotten angry at the handsome man who was ugly on the inside. She would have told Tom Marvolo Riddle she'd never ever, for as long as she lived wanted to see him again! Her emotions were strong enough and if she were to say those words out loud-she probably could have made a curse (like Kane had mentioned once). She didn't care anymore!

If she were in her right mind, she would have done and said all those things mentioned.

However, Ophelia Mae Darwin wasn't in her right mind and wouldn't get the chance to be since the spell Tom casted on her was too quick for her to dodge.

" _Imperio._ "

* * *

Peteris Elwood wasn't sure he was understanding the situation completely. "What do you mean, Pipa's gone on a holiday with Tom Riddle?" He placed his knife and fork down on the either sides of the plate, temporary ignoring the alluring aroma of chicken and shrimp paella. "I thought Pipa was single? Who told you she's vacationing with him?"

Margo herself even looked confused with the information she shared with her husband. "Pipa's mum. I've received a letter from Wendy Darwin a little bit ago. She asked if we knew if they'd planned this out?"

The Elwood heir shrugged his shoulder. "I can swear on my life I had absolutely no knowledge of anything of that sort." Peter's mind for a brief moment flashed to a blurry memory from sixth year of Tom gently tucking a few strands of hair behind Ophelia's ear so it stayed out of her face. He was sure that moment from the past had nothing to do with the present.

"Should I send an owl to William and see if he knew?" Margo took a drink of water to help calm her nerves. "I mean, if Pipa is with Tom and they are on holiday then that's great but you don't think they're running away and getting married or anything?"

Peter shook his head. "I can't really speak for Riddle, but Pipa has always been honest us. I am sure she's honest with her family as well. So if Pipa says her and Riddle are only going on a holiday together-I am sure they're only going on a holiday. No marriage."

The pregnant witch suddenly experienced a flare of anger. "Peter! You didn't answer my first question though! Should I send an owl to WIlliam and see if he knows anything about this!"

"Love," Peter sighed. "William didn't know anything when you sent a letter the first time. He even asked Zyra and she had no clue either. They didn't know then and they still aren't going to know anything now."

Margo brought her hands up to her face and rubbed her eyes in the process; pregnancy had made her forgetful. "Sorry. I didn't remember."

Peter stood up from his chair and walked over to Margo and rubbed her back in little counter clockwise motions. "They'll be fine, Margo. Don't you worry about it."

"You're probably right," Margo sighed. She grabbed one of Peter's hands and kissed the back of his knuckles. "You're most likely right."

* * *

Tom Riddle watched as Ophelia Darwin hummed happily to herself as she explored the cottage Dolohov had put together. He sat on plush and gray loveseat, a glass of gin his hand, satisfied that everything in the cottage was exactly as promised.

The cottage was clean, the large fireplace in the living room had been enchanted, and the kitchen was stocked with a good amount of food for at least the first month. The floorboards were cleaned and waxed well to a point Tom could damn near see his reflection on the surface. Dolohov had ensured that he'd set up an office for the heir of Slytherin as well as get new furniture for Tom's bedroom. Dolohov also made sure that the half-blooded witch was just as comfortable in her bedroom as well (more or less out of fear Lord Voldemort would punish him otherwise.)

"What do you think?" Tom asked when he saw Ophelia wonder back to the living room. "Dolohov gave us his family cottage." An odd look of slight distaste was on Tom's features. "Apparently they'd use to be poor as opposed to the well off family they are now."

"It's perfect." Ophelia sat in front of the fireplace; her elbows propped up against her knees and her hands combing through her brown hair. The heat from the flames caressed her back with a sense of safety. There was a carefree expression on her face as she sighed. "Absolutely perfect."

The handsome man took a drink of his gin; the Imperious Curse worked impeccably on Ophelia.

"Come and sit by me," Tom called out to Ophelia. "Get close if you can."

Without a second's delay, the young lady moved away from the fireplace and sat directly next to Tom. She leaned in and placed her head on his shoulder.

Tom wrapped one arm around her shoulders even though she was already close to him as it was. He downed the rest of the gin. Ophelia was quiet and content, her eyes fixed on the flames of the fireplace.

"Listen to me and pay close attention, Ophelia." Tom started with his voice sounding sweet yet gruff at the same time. There was still a hint of that dangerous authoritative tone laced in his voice but it was sweet as music to the witch's ears.

"Anything you want, Tom." Ophelia said. "I'll listen until morning if that's what you want."

That's when Tom Marvolo Riddle told the half-blooded witch everything terrible he'd ever done in his life. He started with his cruel playing methods as a child in Wool's Orphanage before transitioning over to the more heinous deeds as he grew older.

From framing an innocent Gryffindor for the murder of a Ravenclaw student, to murdering others to make horcruxes for his benefit-Tom allowed himself to share and open up to Ophelia in a way he'd never done before.

It actually felt nice for him to tell her all those things. _Refreshing,_ Tom thought to himself. _It feels refreshing._

"I am a descendant of Salazar Slytherin." Tom combed his hand through brown hair, twirling the ends every now and then like he used to see Ophelia do. "Did I ever tell you that?"

"Only now, Tom." Ophelia's voice was warm and soft. There was look in her eyes that in a worrying way, made the heir of Slytherin's heart melt. The sad thing was, that look in her eyes was honest and not a product of the curse she was under.

 _This will be over soon._ Tom told himself. _You won't need her around for much longer._

Soon, possibly in maybe the next couple of hours Tom would use _Obliviate_ on the brunette witch to make sure she forgot about the Imperious Curse. After that, Tom figured he would implant a false memory of Ophelia willingly taking up the offer to come to Albania with him the first time he ran it by her.

Tom planned it all out.


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.

I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible.

This series is rated 'M' for a reason-there is a brief mention of hallucinogens use.

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews you've all been dropping for me. I appreciate it. It keeps me motivated to write and update on this series of mine-it lets me know people are interested and want to see what happens. Please review if you can, let me know what you all think! Thanks again!

* * *

November 8, 1948

A young woman laid in a queen sized bed, awake with one arm stretched out across her forehead and the arm lying flat by her side. She felt exhausted: emotional and mentally from the moment she woke up but she was willing to ignore the state of her well being and she was sure it was nothing. _You're still tired,_ she told herself.

Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling as she snuggled deeper into her bed and blankets; she could hear the crackling of the fireplace from the living room even with her door closed.

That's how quiet it was early in the morning. Or was it midnoon? The young woman lifted her arm off her forehead to look at the time. A look of irritation came to her features when she realized that her watch was set on New Orleans' time zone.

She knew damn good and well from what little rays of sunshine that peaked through her bedroom window it couldn't have been two in the morning.

While Ophelia wasn't the best at continually updating her watch on whatever timezone she was in; she'd gotten _better_ at it or at least she thought she was until today.

"I was all packed and ready for Mexico." Ophelia muttered as she finally got out of bed to get dressed. Initially, she was calm as she picked an outfit for the day out but slowly it chipped with every article of clothing she touched that didn't scream 'Mexico' but instead yelled 'Albania'.

She sighed as she got pulled a canary yellow long sleeved collar dress out her suitcase. An angry string of cuss words came out of her mouth as she covered her legs with beige stockings. By the time it came to putting on her brown heeled oxfords on her feet; Ophelia was stomping so hard into the floorboards it almost sounded like she was trying to tap dance.

Her emotions kept bouncing from disappointment, resignation of that initial disappointment, to grievance, and settle to mild curiosity. Then the emotions would repeat all over again until each one felt weaker and weaker than the first time Ophelia felt it. It took her roughly fifteen minutes to gather enough control of her feelings to step outside of her room and figure out how the rest of the day would go.

Ophelia stepped out of her room, no sign of Tom in the living room."Good morn-."

"It's late afternoon." A condescending voice rang from the kitchen; at a small table Tom was examining a locket but as he heard the sounds of Ophelia approaching he put the locket around his neck and tucked it into his button up shirt. The black suit vest and grey windsor tie Tom wore hid the outline of Slytherin's locket in a casual but discreet enough manner.

Tom stood up from the table, his hands went into the front pockets of the black slacks he wore; he needed to be sure Ophelia didn't suspect anything of him. "Are you still willing to help me?"

He watched as Ophelia stopped in the middle of the kitchen archway; her body leaned against it and look that was neither enthusiastic nor apathetic on her face.

"I said I would, didn't I?" The subtle feeling of disappointment bubbled in Ophelia's veins for half of a second before she extinguished it by taking a deep breath in and letting it out. She wanted so badly to be in Mexico! _Don't be selfish, Ophelia. You're lucky you grew up knowing you had a family-at least let Tom try and have that._

The half-blooded witch pulled out a cigarette from the little pocket of her dress, once again using her wand to light the tobacco filled roll. "So," Ophelia placed the cigarette in between her lips, sucked through it, and blew out three small rings of smoke. "You're sure St. Wool's is correct when they say you're family is originally from Albania?"

"Yes." Tom lied as he turned his head away from the smoke that came too close to his face. "My mother fled the country and went to London in hopes of a better life, but she became deathly ill and left me in the orphanage before she passed."

Ophelia Darwin was never an orphan, she'd never passed by an orphanage a day in her life so to say she didn't understand how orphanages worked would be completely true. There was a tiny, cold, and fretful feeling that crawled on her skin, causing goosebumps to breakout all over her as she took Tom's words in.

"Did they give you a surname?" Ophelia asked. "Your mum's surname or your father's?"

"Bardhi." Tom lied without any guilt inflicting his conscience. "That's all I know."

She wasn't by any means clairvoyant or too great at handling a situation with Tom involved, but something with the whole situation seemed. _..I can't think of a word._ Ophelia frowned as she and Tom locked eyes; she continued to inhale air through the filter of a tobacco roll and exhale smoke into the kitchen. _Maybe because you've known he's always been an orphan...The thought he might have a family somewhere is...It seems...It feels...Unexpected?_

"Are you quite finish smoking that foul thing?" Tom had to hold back his cough from the smoke irritating his senses. "Fuck, Ophelia. You travel wherever you please but you pick up the most uncultured and common habit?"

"I smoke peyote when I visit Colorado sometimes." Ophelia mused with a hidden smirk as more smoke gently flowed out of her mouth. "It kills me nearly every time but the high is fun before the inevitable crash."

A dirty look came on Tom's face as more smoke hit his face. Tom stood in front Ophelia, one hand placed on the wall by her head, with his free hand he plucked the cigarette out of Ophelia's hold. The heir of Slytherin placed the cigarette in between his lips and took a drag from it; he removed the cigarette, tossed it down to floorboard, and stomped it out with his foot. With a slightly opened mouth-he blew all the smoke he inhaled into the half-blooded witch's face.

Ophelia tried to move her head out of the cloud of smoke but Tom grabbed her chin and held it firmly; he moved his face closer to the green eyed brunette and finished blowing smoke in her face.

In a quick moment, Tom placed a kiss on Ophelia's cheek before pulling away. She brought a hand up to where he placed his lips on her.

"It's not too fun having smoke blown in your face, is it?" Tom stated; his hand still on Ophelia's chin.

Ophelia frowned at Tom; she placed a free hand on Tom's left shoulder and left it there. She wanted to say something scandalous; something that would irk him and get under his skin but she decided against it. "If you don't like me smoking me-you can ask me not to smoke around you." Her voice was steady and it had some degree of compromise as she spoke.

"We're adu-." She stopped in the middle of her sentence. The word 'adults' wasn't ominous by any means but a brief feeling of sudden displeasure filled Ophelia.

 _Shake it off,_ Ophelia told herself. _Stop being so...off today._

"We're grown-ups now, Tom." The former Hufflepuff took up a diplomatic sounding tone. "We should be able , with how long we've known each other, to navigate a conversation and reach a compromise between us."

A clap of deep laughter echoed through the cottage, due to his laughter Tom ended up leaning closer to the female who trapped by his was a genuine sound of amusement as he laughs went on.

 _I don't compromise_. The heir thought to himself as his laughter began to die down.

Ophelia's shoulder slumped down not in defeat but due to shock and confusion. Firstly, she probably only heard Tom give a real laugh maybe once- _maybe_ -she wasn't sure. Secondly, she didn't know what was so funny about what she said.

* * *

Albania wasn't as dingy as neither Tom nor Ophelia expected. The Dolohov cottage was roughly a mile or so away from the town Tom swore up and down St. Wool's Orphanage stated his 'biological family' was from. Truth be told the Grey Lady was kind enough (after being charmed over by him) to point Tom to the direction of Vermosh, Albania.

Somewhere in the forests of Vermosh, hid Ravenclaw's diadem. Tom was going to find it hopefully before the month was out, if not sooner. _Hopefully sooner,_ Tom thought to himself as he and Ophelia strolled around town.

Ophelia wasted no time as soon as they got to town. Judging from what little English she heard around the town of Vermosh, she'd have a language barrier to break down first.

 _Unfortunately.._.Ophelia shot a side glance at Tom _. It's a spell, he'd call primitive._ Equally as unfortunate as Tom calling a spell that was wildly useful spell 'primitive'...Ophelia was going to need at least one hair from a local who spoke Albanian _**and**_ a hair from Tom. She could easily pluck her own hair for the spell to work but that wasn't really the issue _. Why couldn't I ever at one point, asked Peter's grandparents to teach me Albanian? Margo even knew how to speak it!_

Ophelia focused her sights towards what looked like an outdoor marketplace. _Okay...I need something I can work with._ She ventured closer to the stalls and tables laid out with different types of meats, fishes, cheese, fruit and surprisingly enough: art. Ophelia needed to find a vendor whose little market set up would allow her to easily reach over and pluck some hair of the person.

At the end of the row of stalls and tables, an older woman with powder white, long hair sat on a wooden chair. There were buckets of red poppies, white carnations, roses, golden lilies, and lavenders surrounding the old woman in the shape of a circle around her chair. _Perfect!_

"Have you notice our first issue?" Ophelia whispered to Tom as she smiled and waved politely to some of the townsfolk who passed her by.

"We speak English while they do not." Tom commented, he set his eyes forwards and refused to make nice and exchange meaningless greetings to the people who walked around him.

"Yes and I have a remedy for that." Ophelia grabbed Tom's wrist and pulled out of the center of the walking path and close to the side of a building wall. "See the old lady selling flowers?"

 _Hard not to notice her, Ophelia._ Tom nodded his head and leaned against the wall.

"Okay-good." Ophelia began to twirl her hair with her fingers. "Do you have money-not like galleons or quid but Albania currency?"

Tom didn't like that line of questioning too much. "Yes. Why?" He narrowed his eyes at the brunette, a hard glare on his face.

"I need you to buy flowers from the nice old woman," The half-blooded witch began. "I need you to get close to her, at least enough to where you could pick a stray hair off her shoulders or coat. A long piece too, please?"

 _What in the actual fuck?_ Tom wasn't too sure he'd heard right and even if he did, what in Merlin's name possessed Ophelia to travel to places where using hair from a stranger was for something that _wasn't_ Polyjuice potion? "What kind of uncivilized, lost world spell-."

"I need the hair, Tom." Ophelia sighed. "I need the hair of someone from here who speaks the language. I cannot do the spell without the hair and if I cannot do the spell-we cannot help you find your family if we can't speak Albanian. Also, I think it would look more natural if you went over and bought flowers from her and gently touch the old woman's shoulder than if I do it...Plus the money is yours..."

A part of her wanted to add that she'd learn the spell in Japan- which while it was recovering from the war, Japan was still very civilized and the witches and wizards she met were kind to her . Ophelia kept that to herself though-she was sure Tom didn't give a rat's arse about that.

Tom pulled out one peach colored banknote out of his trouser pockets; Dolohov really had everything covered in regards to making Tom's stay in Albania comfortable. The brown of Tom's eyes bore down into the pale green of Ophelia's eyes. There was no frown or anything close to malice on Tom's features as a quiet and calm moment happened between him and the half-blooded witch.

He could have started a fight and make a big fuss out of him having to spend money on some flowers that he could get for free in a meadow but an atomically small part of Tom's conscience was willing to do what she asked of him.

That and he was a slave to his own motives and Ophelia's spell was his (not theirs) best bet at the time being.

"Stay here." Tom barked at her. He took one good look at the brunette before he stepped away towards the directions of the flowers.

The image of Ophelia Darwin with her chocolate brown hair lazily hanging down her shoulders; her back against the wall and with her hands tucked into the pockets of her yellow dress was a sight that would have made any young man fall in love with her upon first glance. Tom merely frowned at the sight of her as his guts twisted in a way that made him suddenly feel vexed with Ophelia.

What Tom Riddle needed was easy enough to obtain and the process was rather mundane. The older woman smiled at him as she gently took the Albania banknote out of the young man's hands and tucked it away into the pocket of her coat.

"A po merrni lule për atë zonjë të re?" (Are you buying flowers for that young lady?) The old lady's voice was raspy yet soft. She leaned over to the side to get a better look at Ophelia, the bright color of young woman's dress was hard to miss. The old woman reached for a bucket and pulled out a bundle of seven golden lilies. "Këtu, do t'i pëlqejë këta." (Here, she'll like these ones.)

Tom went to go grab the golden lilies; his eyes caught a glimpse of a stray white hair on the sleeve of the older woman's coat. He smiled as he grabbed the stray hair and the flowers.

As Tom turned around, flowers and stray piece of hair in his possession-there was a cocky expression on his face.

Ophelia didn't say anything as she gently pulled the hair out of Tom's hold; she admired the bundle of golden lilies but only for a second as she had to get to work on that the language spell. She looked over their surroundings, "We need to go somewhere empty and quiet. I won't do the spell out in the open."

An image of building with red roofing flashed in Tom's mind. "I know a place that could work."

* * *

The heir of Slytherin, when in the muggle world was brought up in two places: St. Wool's orphanage and the Catholic church. He didn't care for either St. Wools or the church, but Tom remembered how empty almost all churches seemed on the weekdays and in the afternoon.

The Darwin family never was a family that indulge in religion. Not because Gregory or Ben thought God was an abstract and made up concept, but because Wendy believed weekends were for sleeping in and not spending the mornings of Sunday in a crowded church with members of a community she wasn't sure she liked.

Ophelia only had one blurred memory of being in a church when she was roughly eight years old and that was all she had until the moment Tom Riddle led her to this particular church.

"Get down from there." Tom stood at the bottom step of church altar as his traveling companion went about touching a statue of Jesus Christ and looking through the priest's personal Bible.

Ophelia even sat in the Presider's Chair,and amused herself by waving oh-so-ladylike to a crowd of invisible church attendees while bundle of golden lilies rested in her lap. She started hum ' _God Save the King_ '.

 _Alright, she's had her moment of amusement._ Tom rolled his eyes at the female. "Can we continue on with what we're originally here for?" He phrased it as a question but the witch in his presence knew better.

Ophelia got up from the Presider's Chair; hastily picking the flowers up from her lap as she walked down to meet Tom at the bottom of the altar. "Yes, sorry."

The handsome man took the flowers away from Ophelia as soon as she stood directly in front of him-for the sake that she didn't get distracted again.

Tom watched as Ophelia snapped the white hair from the older stranger in half; she handed one piece for him to hold in his free hand and kept one for herself. Ophelia pulled out one little piece of hair off her head as before she started to intertwine brown hair and white hair together.

A look of mild disgust came to Tom's face when she put the hair in her mouth and heard her swallow. Ophelia then drew her wand out and pointed it to the center of her throat.

Tom wasn't too sure as to what Ophelia said, but it didn't sound like a spell that had Latin roots or any type of language roots he was familiar with. A white light transferred from the tip of Ophelia's wand and buried itself into her skin.

"Your turn." Ophelia let out a little cough, no doubt from swallowing a hair.

"Yes, I know." Tom handed the golden lilies back to Ophelia to hold; he plucked a thread of hair of his head and began to twist it with the stranger's hair; without stalling he placed the hair in his mouth and swallowed as well.

Ophelia pressed her wand gently on Tom''s throat and said the spell once more. He still wasn't able to catch words of the spell. Ophelia either casted it too fast and Tom didn't know if that was the point or she said the spell fast to purposefully butcher his chances of getting shit done.

"There." The brunette removed her wand away from Tom's throat and tucking it into her pocket. "It's been done."

 _For your sake, I hope this spell works._ A look of doubt was plastered on Tom's face as he gave the bouquet of golden lilies back to the young witch.

He said nothing but the look of incredibly obvious doubt on Tom's face told Ophelia enough.

"We can go back to marketplace, Tom." There was a slight trace of hurt in her voice and face-not that it mattered. "If you're unsure of the spell, that is." Ophelia then added, "Besides, we need to go back to town and see if anyone knows about the Bardhi-er-your family."

 _She's already served her purpose for the first day_. A voice in Tom's head went off. _If you ask the townsfolk about their forest and if Ophelia asks about a family here that most likely doesn't even exist-this could work against you._

Then came up another more notable thought in his head; a more sincere one. _You should probably let her off on her own too...Let her go explore like she normally would when she travels to places she_ _ **actually**_ _likes._

"I can handle the rest on my own, Ophelia." The handsome man tried to bestow a gesture of (some) appreciation onto Ophelia by gently caressing the left side of her face. "Why don't you go exploring for a bit?"

Those words...Everything Tom had said, it rubbed Ophelia the wrong way. She felt mixed up all over again but on top of disappointment, resignation of said disappointment, grievance, and curiosity-be sure to add a strong dose of indignation to the rest of those emotional ingredients and one would find exactly how bitter Ophelia was in that moment.

 _Excuse me?_ Ophelia moved her face away from Tom's hand. "I thought you said you wanted me to help you find your family? That's why I am here for right, Tom?"

"You helped me by using that spell, and _if_ it works, then you've done your job." Tom did try to sound reasonable, but the way and how he said that, phrased it as if she didn't _actually_ do anything to even help him. Who knows if that was intentional or not.

He tried to caress Ophelia's face again. "Besides," He lied, "This is a very personal matter, I should go at this alone for today. You can help me tomorrow if I cannot find any information."

Ophelia felt her body grow hot from a steady sense of pure hurt. It started in her toes, traveled up to her hands, up to her chest, and finally to her eyes where they burned and threaten to leak a few tears. _Are you fucking serious? Are you fucking kidding me?_

She didn't necessarily understand why her whole sense of being was so out of whack than usual about Tom dismissing her. Sure in the past it stung and it cut deep into what self-esteem and ego she had then.

However this sent Ophelia went into a completely different realm of insecurities, only difference now was she was more vocal about it.

"It is a personal matter you asked me to help you with, Tom." Ophelia moved her face away from Tom. "You said you wanted my help to find your fucking family! I am here, right here, Tom." She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself-it only brought clarity to all the negative emotions that festered in her and it all came out in a yell. "I was going to Mexico! I had my plans sorted for the month!" Ophelia shoved the bundle of golden lilies into Tom's chest, not caring if he held them in his arms or if he was going to let them drop to the church floors.

A heated silence filled between the two magic users. Just Tom Riddle and Ophelia Darwin in a church, standing in front of an altar with bruised flowers in between them.

Tom was quiet because he'd never actually seen an outburst on such a heated level from Ophelia. He found it intriguing to say the least yet he found it infuriating to say the most.

While Ophelia was quiet because she wasn't sure what else would fly out of her mouth at the moment. She was a dangerous concoction of strong emotions and what if she said something she could never take back?

"I didn't go though..." Ophelia took three steps away from Tom; the bouquet fell. "I didn't go to Mexico, Tom. I'm not day drinking, I'm not off running on a beach, I'm not even learning brujeria like I wanted to." She sat herself down on one of the many empty church pews; her eyes glued on anything that wasn't Tom. "I am here with you."

 _Your words really mean nothing Ophelia._ Tom watched the witch as she cradled her face in her hands. _You didn't get a choice because you don't seem to make the right ones! Like now, you couldn't smile and walk away? You couldn't roam around and frolic in some meadow or write letters to your family back home-you couldn't make the right choice? You don't know how, can you?_

In one quick motion, Tom picked the golden lilies off the floor and walked over to Ophelia. He tossed the flowers with a rather forced effort so they landed right by her as she sat.

"You're obviously overwhelmed." Tom tried to keep the sound of his own irritation out of the tone he spoke to Ophelia with. He had to remain in control. If he lost his control over his own body-he'd lose control over the situation. "You're upset because you didn't get what you expected and you're placing that all on me."

The heir of Slytherin almost showed genuine sincerity when he saw how irregular the witch's breathing was by the rise and fall of her shoulders. "Ophelia go back to cottage, get some rest, eat if you want."

Ophelia's hands was still covering her face. There was just something, a detail she didn't remember or a part of a conversation she missed with him and it drove her up the wall. True, she'd help Tom in the past but none of those times did she feel so fucking abysmal or empty or demented over the ordeal.

Tom's eyes bore intently on her skin. "I'll walk you back if need be."

"No." The witch stood up gently and smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress; she clutched the flowers as she got ready to leave. _You're tired, Ophelia. Remember? You even woke up in a tired and bad mood._ "You're right, Tom. I need to rest." The haze of disgruntlement slowly began to clear away in her mind. "Go do what you need to, if you need me then you need me. If you don't then you don't."

In a clumsy type of manner, she grabbed Tom's hand and gave it a firm squeeze before letting go. "See you."

Tom didn't follow her and for that she was happy.

* * *

Ophelia Mae Darwin walked off roughly two fifths of the way back to the Dolohov cottage before she froze in her path. She stopped to admire the tall trees and how perfectly the rays of the sun poked through the leaves and branches. There a chill in the November air but even with a small bit of sun-Ophelia felt calm.

"Well?" A raspy voice called out from behind her.

Ophelia let out a yelp of surprise and spun around to see who suddenly appeared in the middle of her walk back to the cottage. "Um-hello?" She wasn't expecting the older woman from the marketplace in the middle of the path. "How do you do?"

"Are you going to go into the woods or not?" The older woman skipped greeting Ophelia back. "Because if you are, I need help pulling this." She gestured to a wooden wagon that held empty buckets.

"I have to go back to-."

"Alright, hurry up." The older woman did not care to hear the rest of the younger woman's sentence. "I want to get home at a reasonable time for dinner. Stay close by-absolutely no straying off." The white hair woman left her wooden wagon behind and began to trek into the forest.

Ophelia watched as the older woman placed her hand on a trunk of a tree before she entered the forest. The woman's mouth moved but Ophelia wasn't close enough to hear what was being said.

 _Old woman...lives in forest, alone more than likely...spoke to a tree...Oh why not, what's the worst thing to happen? You didn't have anything else planned did you?_ Ophelia grabbed the handle for the wooden wagon, tossed the flower's Tom bought into one of the empty buckets and started to follow after the old woman.

"Also, I am going to need you to pull some carrots out of the garden." The old lady said as she finally heard footsteps follow through behind her. "I think I'll make carrot cake."

"How many carrots do you want?" Ophelia went along with it. So far this was the most 'vacation-esque' feeling thing the day granted her.

"Enough for two people." The old woman then went on to say. "You know you're very rude for not introducing yourself or giving a name."

"Ophelia." The brunette witch called out as she continued to tug the wagon along through dirt, rocks, and twigs on the forest floor.

"Tsk." The woman shook her head and threw a hand up in the air. "Such a tragic name. Ever read the book?"

"No." Ophelia replied back with honest. "I tried to but I didn't never got past the few three pages."

"I couldn't get into the book my namesake was pulled out of." The old woman explained. " _A Midsummer Night's Dream-_ Hermia."

"Oh." Ophelia felt her brow furrow. Didn't she have to explain that book to Margo once? Was it possible for such a little insignificant thing as a book to come full circle in a weird way in her life?

"That means my name is Hermia in case you're a bit slow."

"Er, no." Ophelia had to admire a the woman's ornery mannerisms. "I got that part."

* * *

The language spell worked better than the heir of Slytherin predicted.

What he'd gathered was the spell did something to where the person under the spell heard a certain type of dialect-they'd hear and speak in their native tongue and not in that certain dialect. It didn't stop the Albanian townsfolk from communicating with Tom, no. He figured when he spoke in English-the words must have been translated into Albanian and vice versa.

 _Onto the important stuff now that is taken care of._

Tom first looked for any information about the exact location of Ravenclaw's diadem in a small library, none of the books in regards to Vermosh's history or geography said anything that stood out to him.

Then he took to asking in what he supposed was considered a hunting shop. The shop owner and the two other men in the shop could only tell him what parts of the woods were good for hunting and which parts were safe to hike with family and friends.

Even with how so far he didn't turn up with any results, it was crucial he remained charming and polite while holding the facade of being a 'scholar' interesting in the history of all countries in Europe.

The heir of Slytherin had to call it quits for the day when he entered a pub and no one sober or drunk could tell him anything. There were no rumors about a forest being enchanted, having treasures buried in it, or even being haunted. He looked over his shoulders as he walked into an empty alleyway. Once he was sure he was alone a loud a loud crack filled the empty air; he apparated back to the cottage.

Save for perhaps the enchanted fireplace, the cottage was essentially veiled by shadows of black.

 _The lights are all out,_ Tom noted as stood in the poorly light living room. He drew his wand out and without a word coming out of his mouth the lamps in the living room went on. Everything looked perfect, untouched. Besides him standing in the living room, the cottage felt like it lacked life.

Tom peered into the kitchen area, for a very brief moment a look of concern was on his face before it disappeared just as quickly as it came. There were no signs that the kitchen had been used to cook anything. He then looked in the pantry-no bread, biscuits, or even canned soups had been touched.

"Ophelia?" Tom loosened the tie on his neck. _No answer...Maybe she's asleep._ There were no qualms in the heir of Slytherin's mind as he walked to the former Hufflepuff's bedroom and opened the door. He turned the light switch in her bedroom on.

For the first time in the handsome young man's life, he felt his heart dropped out of its protected cavity down to the ground. A sense of dismay radiated through his whole body and state of being.

Ophelia's bed was empty.

 _Check your room._ He cleared his throat and tried to rationalize as to why she's wasn't in her room. _Maybe she fell asleep in your room._

Tom backed away from her empty bedroom and went over to his bedroom."I don't find this amusing." He swung the door open. "Ophelia."

 _What if she ran away? What if she stole from you?...Would she?...Did she…?_ Tom stepped deeper into his room and pointed his wand at a painting that hung over the dresser. " _Revelio._ "

The painting over the dresser transformed into a safe that was embedded into the wall. With another flash from his wand, the door to the safe swayed open.

 _Two bags of floo powder-unused and still completely full._ Tom noted before turning his attention to other object in there. _Albanian currency, all accounted for and untouched as well._

There was no trace of her in his room either.

The dismay rooted in him was turning over to panic; Tom stomped over to the office. He nearly pushed the door down trying to open it; there was a small thread of hope in his system as the light switch went up to reveal the contents of the office.

"Fuck!" Tom ran a hand through his hair when he didn't find the other human being who was supposed to take up space in the cottage.

Ophelia Darwin wasn't anywhere to be found.


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source. I do not own the song used in this chapter!

I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible.

This series is rated 'M' for a reason-there is a brief scene that has tones of domestic abuse (even if it is slight.)

Thank you to everyone who reads my story-I didn't think, when I first wrote this, that many people would care for it. So I want to take the time to say I appreciate those who read and enjoy this series. Thank you all for reviews you've all been dropping for me. I appreciate it. It keeps me motivated to write and update on this series of mine-it lets me know people are interested and want to see what happens. Please review if you can, let me know what you all think! Thanks again!

* * *

November 9, 1948

"Sorry, I stayed until the morning." Ophelia rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she tried to sit up from the impromptu bed she made out of the living room couch. "Thank you again for dinner and the carrot cake and the wine afterwards."

Hermia huffed and waved the girl off; she held out a glass of water towards the younger girl. She hadn't had company stay over since her husband passed three months ago and her children and grandchildren weren't due to see her until Christmas. "It's not good to roam alone, especially at night. The forest can guide you back but the eyes like to play tricks."

"Yes, I know-you mentioned." Ophelia took the glass from Hermia and took a long sip. As a child, going off strangers was a big thing _**NOT**_ to do. _I'll be sure to leave this portion out of my next letter to Mum and Dad... Maybe Poppa might find humor in this._ The brunette recounted how normal and pleasant her chance encounter with the older woman went. Perhaps the only thing Ophelia was rather freaked out were the instructions she was given when traveling through the forest-and she'd heard that from Hermia at least fifty times now.

Hermia's tired hazel eyes scanned the witch who still sat comfortably in her home. "So you're looking for the Bardhi family, correct?"

"Yes!" Ophelia's eyes lit up. "Well, not me specifically but my-eh-but Tom is looking for them."

"Hm."

"Do you know anything about them?" Ophelia asked. "I know I mentioned that last night-."

"Yes, yes." Hermia raised a hand up in the air to get the brunette to stop talking. "But I am afraid I'll have to inform you that the last person by the name Bardhi who lived here die of consumption at age nineteen-."

"Were they a female?"

Hermia let out a chuckle. "No, a male. Roger Bardhi was an only child, fancied his drinks more than company. On the rare occasion if he wanted company trust me dear-it wasn't with pretty women. He's also been dead for over forty years."

Ophelia's eyes no longer lit up; there was an inexplicably slow and sinking feeling hooking itself deep, deep into her muscles and it filled her with a budding seed of anxiety. "Oh...I see."

"Your wizard friend-he's lied to you, maybe? Men, wizards or muggles, always lie especially the handsome ones." A petty sentence then escaped the white haired woman's lips. "My advice to you-marry a solid seven. I did and I was happily married for fifty-eight years."

 _Oh fuck! How did she know?_ Ophelia was about to open her mouth to protest the notion of magic and witches and wizards but Hermia merely held her out in the air again to keep the brunette from speaking.

"My husband and I attended Durmstrang when we were young. That's how we met." Hermia sighed. "If I had a time turner… I'd want one more day with that fool I married."

"Excuse me, but how would you know that I am a witch?" The brunette wasn't eager to share in a trip down 'Reminiscing Road' and straight on through 'Memory Lane' with the older woman about dead husbands right now! _How did she get me to admit anything about witches and wizards?_

"Easy, I drugged all the drinks with Veritaserum last night and listened as you spilled every little secret you had in that pretty head of yours."

That was possibly the most invading and terrifying thing the brunette heard. Ophelia's eyes widened as she suddenly tensed. _Fuuuck me!_

"Tsk." Hermia rolled her hazel eyes at the completely blank and frozen face of her guest. "Your wand, child. You pulled your wand and lit a cigarette with it when you thought I was cleaning up in the kitchen."

Ophelia put a hand over her heart to make sure she was still alive and that 'joke' hadn't sent her into cardiac arrest. "Oh, shite."

"Getting back to the topic though," Hermia's raspy voice took a serious tone. "The man who bought you the flowers-be careful, Ophelia. Whatever it is he came here for, it isn't to find some long lost relative, if he even has any."

A look concern took over Ophelia's face. Tom always did have a way of being sneaky and she knew for a fact he could charm and manipulate out of any situation...but what did he get out lying to Ophelia? To have her spend some time with him?

 _No...couldn't be that._ A cold feeling ran up her spin, it pulled up a memory she had been repressing. The memory of feeling isolated and empty as she peered into Tom's soul. _Terrible things...Souls don't turn dark on their own...A lot of terrible things have to be done first._

Ophelia opened her mouth but paused before fully asking her question. She had to think for a brief moment if Albania had anything to offer Tom-when she couldn't find the answer herself that is when she asked Hermia. "Is there anything about Albania, this part specifically, that I should know about?"

Hermia rolled her eyes at the child. "Took you long enough to ask me." She eyes the witch carefully, her eyes landing on the pocket of her dress. "Give me a smoke and meet me in the kitchen for tea and I'll tell you what I know."

* * *

Tom Riddle didn't have time to sit around and mope over some dirty, half-blood, filth of a witch to return back to the cottage. Nor did he care enough to make time to go out and find her-he wasn't Ophelia's damned keeper.

 _Why should I even care? I can figure it out on my own-what good is Ophelia anyhow? She's only had three friends her whole life, how would that make her any more approachable and sociable than a dog?...Hell, a dog would probably be more useful than her-I could have the dog fuckin' sniff out Ravenclaw's diadem if possible..._

Tom scoffed as he went for another round of asking the townsfolk if they knew anything. This time he took to asking farmers, grocers, teachers, and the everyday group of men who went to and from their little office jobs and their homes.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he realized he was starting to run out of options; so much to a point where he found himself back at cottage, in the office, writing a damn letter to his Death Eaters if they knew more than the muggles who lived in town of Vermosh.

In total, Tom only sent three letters. One for Malfoy, one for Dolohov, and one for Lestrange. Nott, Rosier, and Avery while more useful now as they'd gotten older were busy pushing Lord Voldemort's (i.e. Tom's) views on other pure-bloods.

The whole day Tom felt on edge and now as he sat in his office, at a desk, with nothing but quiet echoing all around him and it made him restless. _What can I do?_ He thought angrily to himself as he noted how he made zero progress since yesterday. _Nothing! Not a damn thing! You have no information, no starting point to get the end goal._

A little cracking sound snapped Tom out his thoughts, a groan of irritation escaped the handsome man's lips. Without meaning to, his magic got the best of him and the little inkwell on the desk shattered into pieces and ink splattered all over the surface.

"Shit." Tom backed away, pulled his wand out and with no other words coming out his mouth, he moved his wand through the air. The little inkwell fixed itself like it was brand new.

Whether or not the lack of Ophelia's presence at the moment added to Tom's whole attitude for the day was up for debate, but it did get the handsome man to leave the office and head back to the room the female was supposed to be in.

He'd already check her room when he woke up in the morning, right before he headed out to town. Tom knew in his head and heart Ophelia's room would be lacking Ophelia, but what her room didn't lack were her belongings.

Ophelia's suitcase on the edge of her bed, empty opened only to reveal a faux bottom. She'd used an extension charm. There was a slight relief on the Dark Lord's end to know that while Ophelia might have been somewhat decent (barely, in his eyes) student in Hogwarts, it seemed like she was better at applying magic out in the real world.

Tom walked into her room and again, with no qualms or even the slightest notion that maybe Ophelia wanted privacy, and stuck a hand through the bottom of the suitcase. At the tip of his fingers, he mainly felt fabric. He shifted his hand over the right and brushed his hand over what felt like a spine of a book.

 _A diary perhaps?_ He pulled the item out only to see a book written by a muggle author, William Shakespeare. _Hamlet?_ He opened the book and flipped through the pages, there were no scribbles in Ophelia's handwriting.

"Useless." Tom tossed the book onto the bed. He plunged another hand back into Ophelia's suitcase. At first all he could feel was fabric of more clothing. Tom was shoulders deep in the suitcase before his hand felt like it landed on a handle. With a quick pull, Tom found himself holding a portable gramophone. "How trivial."

He laid it carefully on the bed and opened it; there were no records placed in the gramophone so Tom spent about an extra fifteen minutes more digging in the half-blooded witch's suitcase until he found one.

He placed the record on the portable gramophone and placed the the needle on to hear a song.

".. _ **.**_ _ **The crowd sees me out dancing, carefree and romancing, happy with my someone new. I'm laughing on the outside, crying on the inside, cause I'm still in love with you…**_ "

 _Interest concept-too bad it's a muggle song._

"... _ **They see me night and daytime, having such a gay time, they don't know what I go through. I'm laughing on the outside, crying on the inside, cause I'm still in love with you…**_ "

Yet with how useless and trivial Tom Riddle found the two items in Ophelia's possession were, the heir of Slytherin let the muggle music play through the cottage as he found himself looking through the muggle book. It's not like he had anything else more productive to do.

For all the heir of Slytherin knew, the half blooded witch was more productive than him.

* * *

If it's been mentioned once, it's probably been mentioned at least ten other times by now-Ophelia loathed forests. Why she originally wandered off into one in the first place was because there was a destination in mind-there was a located at the end of that first walk.

Hiking through the forests of Vermosh, Albania with no guaranteed destination in mind or even as to a rough time estimate on how long it took to get where-the fuck-ever only reminded the brunette how much she _hated_ forests.

She had to bite her tongue down as to keep herself from asking Hermia if they were any closer to what the older woman wanted to show the younger one. Blisters were forming on the young witch's feet but if older witch wasn't going to complain then neither would Ophelia. It bring up a question however.

"Are you positive-one hundred percent sure-we cannot apparate to wherever it is we have to go?" Ophelia stopped and placed her hands on her knees and took a deep breath. They'd been walking uphill for roughly three miles.

Hermia paused, put a hand up to a tree closest to her and mumbled into its bark.

Ophelia inched closer and listened intently. She heard Hermia mutter to the tree: 'Could you give us a quicker way to what we seek?' Without even a second going by, a chorus of twigs cracking and leaves rattling in the wind was all Ophelia could hear.

"Come on." Hermia clapped her hands at Ophelia. "I've asked the trees for a short cut!"

"What in the actual bloody hell?" Ophelia whispered to herself as she trudged along. _Maybe my mind is playing a trick on me...but I could have sworn…_ She looked over her shoulders as she hurried to stand by Hermia. _I could have sworn some of the trees moved._

The tree Hermia muttered too was no longer in the spot it was once was. Ophelia could understand an enchanted forest...but why was it enchanted?

"So a young woman died here?" Ophelia was trying to piece the some information together from what the older woman told her earlier during tea time.

"Murdered-she was murdered here." Hermia had no issue walking and talking as they ventured off. "Her lover did her in."

That sent shivers down Ophelia's spine and the hair on her skin prickled up. "But she did die here? In these woods?"

"Ophelia, keep up _please._ I thought we've already established that part." Hermia stopped walking and pointed at a tree that was only five feet away from them. "See that?"

 _It's hard not to miss._ Ophelia narrowed her eyes to a point where she looked angry; it didn't look out of the ordinary. "It's a tree." As much as Ophelia wanted to see what was so 'different' or attention grabbing about the tree Hermia seemed so excited about-there was no way to distinguish it from any other tree in the forest.

It didn't look dark with rotten roots or bare branches that twisted every direction. Where this tree stood, it looked healthy. Green leaves, strong trunk, and it was tall enough to nearly blot out the sun.

"No." Hermia took the younger witch's hand and walked closer to this particular tree; it felt like a grip a mother would have on her child. "Touch it."

Ophelia wasn't curious and more scared at that moment, her mind process that as fear but her body didn't make the connection. She moved her hand up to the tree with expectation of feeling wood with rough imprints on the skin of the bark; a gasp escaped her mouth when her hand went right through.

She yanked her hand out of the tree and looked at Hermia. Trees weren't supposed to do that! Or at least, a person shouldn't have been able to put their hand through a tree. "Did you cast some spell before I got here? Is this your doing?"

Hermia shook her from one side to other slowly, to signal that she hadn't used any spell.

Ophelia said nothing as she took a small minute to take the whole situation in. Magic was definitely being used in the forest, but it wasn't Hermia's and it sure as hell wasn't Ophelia's either.

With a shaky hand Ophelia reached back in, amazed at how hollow the tree actually was compared to how it looked. Her fingers brushed against something cold; a yelp nearly escaped her lips but she refrained from making any sounds. Ophelia gripped the item lightly and yanked it out of the tree.

In her hand, a silver tiara with the deepest blue sapphire and on it was etched a quote.

Ophelia looked at Hermia, to the silver wreath in her hand, back to Hermia. The half-blooded witch was stunned, unsure if the events happening at the moment were real or made up.

"Hermia…" Ophelia's mind was reeling. "When you say a young woman died here-you forgot to mention she was-."

"A pure-blood, Ravenclaw's daughter?" Hermia took the diadem out of Ophelia's hand and placed it back into the tree. "Do you know how many witches and wizards from Hogwarts have come to Albania and sought out Ravenclaw's diadem? More than I can remember and more than I care to count."

Ophelia heard the sound of twigs breaking and leaves on branches shaking once again, this time she could have sworn even the dirt beneath her feet shifted slightly. She looked to where the tree that Ravenclaw's diadem was only to find like earlier, the trees moved. This time Ophelia was sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

"Why did you bring me here? If other students have been here what makes me so special?" Ophelia stayed in her spot in front of Hermia. Yes, the brunette knew about the whole Helena Ravenclaw thing. Yes, she knew about the diadem missing too. Did she know Albania was where these events took place-no. Did she have an ulterior motive to claim the diadem for herself-again, no.

Was it her fault for not being perceptive enough to put two and two together when Hermia said a woman died by her lover in the forest-it was a possible maybe.

"You're not out for fame and glory are you, Ophelia?" Hermia gave a gentle pat on the girl's shoulder. "You have an honest enough face with hands that show you mean no harm."

"I don't really understand what that means when you phrase it like that, Hermia." Ophelia thought it sounded sweet but why too poetic and abstract for her to understand right away. "It's a good thing though, right?"

Hermia nodded her head slightly up and down to sign 'yes' at the witch in her presence. "It means I can trust you to put it back where it belongs! This responsibility of keeping Ravenclaw's diadem hidden will no longer be mine!"

"Then why didn't you lead someone else to find the diadem in the first place?" Ophelia frowned. "Couldn't anyone have done?"

Hermia frowned back. "Anyone? No, you don't want anyone coming into these woods and finding something that could make them a worse person. Wisdom is neither evil nor good. It all depends on who wears it." A raspy chuckle came from the older woman. "You didn't even bother to put it on your head when you saw the diadem. I can trust only you to put give it back to Hogwarts before you go."

 _This is a lot to proces_ s...Ophelia sighed and began to twirl her hair. "So you think this is what Tom lied to me about? He is still an orphan with no family and is only seeking-." Ophelia was going to point at the tree that held the diadem in its trunk but she forgotten it had vanished. "He is seeking that?"

Hermia shook her head; the former Hufflepuff student finally got it. "I told you," The older woman said. "All men are liars. This one lied to you."

"You know this is all," Ophelia threw her hands up in the air, "a lot for me to handle."

"Imagine how I've felt." Hermia replied. "I'm old, I want it off my hands."

Ophelia kept to herself as they walked back towards Hermia's cozy home in the woods. _Why would Tom lie about his intentions? Why would does he even care about Ravenclaw's diadem any how?...How would I even approach him about any of this?_ A cold chill ran up her spin again; as if her body was warning her not to confront Tom so casually about this issue.

* * *

". **..** _ **Blue moon, you saw me standin' alone. Without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own…**_ _ **"**_

Ophelia returned to the Dolohov cottage by five o'clock in the evening-Hermia was kind enough to feed the brunette dinner and had even allow Ophelia to take a small baskets of leftovers back to the cottage. The sound of the music in the cottage confused the half-blooded witch.

" _ **...Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for, you heard me sayin' a prayer for someone I really could care for…"**_

She knew for a fact she didn't break out her gramophone the other day, so why was her music playing? Ophelia kept calm as she walked to the kitchen to drop the basket of leftovers on the table, a frown formed on her face. "Tom?"

No answer.

"Tom, are you here?"

No answer again.

 _What if he is in town?...Then who is here?_ The calmness she had when she walked into the cottage was gone. Without thinking, Ophelia made a bee line for her room, threw the door open, and had her wand at the ready.

Ophelia was expecting to see a strange man in her room, rummaging through the dresser she hadn't unpacked her clothes and things into. That wasn't the sight she got.

Instead, her eyes were greeted with the sight of a dark haired man asleep in her bed. She noticed how her gramophone was at the foot of her bed, right next to her suitcase which was now closed. She looked over at Tom who slept with her copy of Hamlet opened and on his chest.

A strong wave of relief washed over Ophelia as she stuck her wand back into her pocket. The brunette decided to leave the wizard in her room asleep and the let the music play on, she was about to close the door before a voice called out to her.

"Where have you been?" Tom sat up in an instant causing the book on chest to fall, his voice was heavy and gruff from sleep while his eyes looked angry, and his hair was a bit of a mess from the back. He leaned over and with one quick movement, the music completely stopped playing.

"Outside." Ophelia answered softly, she averted her gaze away from his body. She might have been relieved a few moments ago but the idea that Tom possibly lied to her about his intentions...Well...that made her rather suspicious about the young man.

"Look at me when we speak to each other, Ophelia." Tom didn't raise his voice at her but it sounded like he wanted to. His browns scanned Ophelia over. He was looking for any cuts or bruises on her body or any tears on her dress. _No signs of any physical damage done to her..._ Tom's eyes went down to her legs, a sneer came to his face when he saw a couple of tears in the fabric of her stockings. Then there were her shoes, Tom saw how heavily caked in dirt they were. "So where were you, my _darling_?"

Ophelia closed her eyes and covered her face with one hand for a brief second. She was stressed, she knew way too much than she wanted to know, and for all she knew-Tom was lying to her about his intentions here.

 _Why me, Merlin? Why me?..You know what Ophelia, it is fine. Lie! You've lied to Tom before out of fear to survive right? He's probably lying to you too anyways, right. Keep the cycle of lies going!_ A small whimper escaped her lips as that stress that engulfed her emotions made Ophelia physically want to get out of her own body.

She was so tired of lying.

"I was outside, Tom." Ophelia removed her hand away from her face and made sure to make eye contact with the dark hair man on her bed.

However, even with being tired of lying, Ophelia still needed to...At least until she figured Tom's angle out.

 _No...something isn't right_. Tom rested his chin in the palm of his hand and this time he took to analyzing the witch's face. Unlike the other day when Ophelia's face seemed to be neutral for the most part, to him, it was obvious she was upset about something. The heir of Slytherin looked her whole physical appearance over again. _No blood, no discoloration on her skin, dress in tact._ He found himself glaring at the girl. "You mean to tell me you've been outside? All day and most of last night?" Tom stood up from the bed and walked towards Ophelia, he scoffed at how her face went from merely looking upset to looking devastated. "Did you go camping in a meadow on a whim?"

It was probably a those rhetorical question but Ophelia didn't care. _You can tell the truth here...but that's all for now. Say nothing else._

"Forest." Ophelia stated flatly with her eyes locked steadily on Tom's brown eyes. "I wasn't in the meadow, I was in the forest."

 _She what!_ A small flare of anger went off in Tom. Not because Ophelia wandered off alone into the forest by herself-but what if she found what he'd been looking for?

"And?" Tom had to contain the bitterness in his voice-he was conflicted. If Ophelia found it, did she have it in her possession? He could easily over power her and take it from her-do a spell and make Ophelia forget she ever found the diadem. Though what if she didn't? What if she just got lost in the forest? Tom would still have nothing to build any information on. "Did you find anything?!"

"No." Ophelia's eyes widened with fear for a slight second, but Tom caught it. He even caught how she flinched at only his words.

The heir of Slytherin took a deep breath in and let out a sigh. _She's lied to me._ Tom reached for her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. He brought his mouth close to her ear. "You're such an ugly liar."

"You won't like what I tell you." Ophelia felt her heartbeat actually slow down as she stitched her next move together.

Tom hissed and angry reply into the brunette's ear. "Try me."

"There is no Bardhi family in Vermosh, Albania." Ophelia yanked her hand out of Tom's hold with a vigor that wasn't expected. "The only one who could even come close to who you might have been related to has been dead longer than we've been alive. To top that off, he didn't have any siblings, my _darling_."

 _Fuck!_ Tom wasn't expecting Ophelia to actually care enough about the lie he made up. He wasn't expecting her to actually go out and find him a family! This also put him a strained position in where Ophelia had the rare opportunity to have the upper hand over him.

"I'll be leaving as soon as possible." The brunette took a step backwards. "I don't plan on staying longer than two more days, maybe less, if you don't need me around to help you." She then pointed in the general direction of the kitchen. "There's some dinner on the table for you if you're hungry. In the meantime, I'd like you to get out of my bedroom."

"That sounds a lot like a goodbye, Ophelia."

"That's what I was aiming for, Tom."

There was an odd feeling in what was left of Tom's soul. It wasn't anger, he knew that familiar emotion. This sensation that left him frozen and made him feel alone and distant from Ophelia. He might have been terrible by all means and definitions to the witch but never did he feel like he was completely alone with Ophelia...Deep down, somewhere in Tom's dysfunctional heart-he found enjoyed the consistency in having the same human being in his life. It was always hard for Tom's calculating mind to process that but still, he acted on having Ophelia in life somehow.

Maybe she wasn't Tom's friend (he never wanted her to be). Maybe she wasn't as capable as he thought she could be (but he figured she got along fine enough). She certainly wasn't a pure-blood or had any notable ancestors in the wizarding world (and that did bother him greatly). Ophelia Mae Darwin was his...plain and simple.

"No." Tom shook his head at her. "You're staying longer than two days. You don't get to up and leave like you're so accustomed to."

His voice was controlling, smooth, and calm all in once and that only made the brunette livid.

"Why not!" Ophelia yelled. "You don't need me! You don't need my help! You've lied to me! You've lied to me this _entire_ time about why we're here!"

Silence settled in the room. Ophelia's heart dropped...She didn't mean to confront Tom about lying, especially when there were no accusations of him being a liar at the moment. _Shit._

With no words, Tom waved a hand through the air and Ophelia felt a sudden force push her body into Tom's arms. The door to her room shut in an instant. Tom easily threw Ophelia unto her bed before he trapped her underneath his body.

Tom's first move was to use Legilimency on Ophelia but nothing. He couldn't see in her mind or even read her thoughts. A scary thought of his own echoed in his mind. _Ophelia's good at Occlumency…._ He tried to play a familiar scenario in his head in which he'd used the Imperius curse followed by the Obliteration charm. _More than likely she'll tell me everything but if she forgets then what use is that to me? I might need that information later down the road._

Ophelia pressed her hands on Tom's chest and tried to shove him off of her, but he didn't budge.

"If you know anything, it would be in your favor to tell me now."

"I know you lied to me about having a family." Ophelia was still trying to push Tom off of her; he grabbed her hands and pressed it down into her bed.

Tom tightened his grip on her, to a point where his fingers are pressing hard into the bones of her wrist. "No. What do you know?"

"Nothing!" Ophelia was fighting to get out from under Tom.

"You need to stop fussing before I hurt you." His brown eyes stared into pale green of Ophelia's eyes. "Before I really hurt you." The fear in Ophelia's eyes was obvious to the heir of Slytherin.

She started to thrash her body around, her legs started to kick about from under Tom. One leg after the other would relentlessly kick up and down until her right leg made contact with a specific area in between Tom's legs.

While he didn't groan at the pain surging through his body, his body tensed and immediately he pulled away from Ophelia. The witch took that as her chance to push the wizard off of her and went sprinting out of her room, away from the living room, clear out of the Dolohov cottage. She could hear Tom behind her trying to get back on his feet and regain control of the situation.

"Ophelia!"

The goosebumps covered all over the brunette's body, she was too scared to look over her shoulder. She looked in the general direction of the thick trees of the forest _. I can make it there._

A crackling sound echoed around the outside world as Ophelia apparated into the woods. She scurried over to the closest tree she could find, put her hand on the trunk and whispered into it. "Hide me, please or at the very least-."

Another loud crack shot through the air-it meant Tom wasn't too far behind. Adrenaline shot through her veins and it quickly allowed her to finish what she wanted to say. "Please hide me or make it so Tom cannot find me. Please."

From roughly twenty feet away, Tom saw Ophelia's back, it looked like she was hanging on the tree as if it was supposed to protect her. "Ophelia! Get back here _**now!**_ " Tom apparated towards the brunette.

As the heir of Slytherin did that, he heard a boom in the air that signaled Ophelia had apparated off somewhere else in the forest. That part was normal-but something happened as Tom was apparating-he merely stopped mid-apparition.

He had no intention of stopping at the time it happened. Tom found his feet planted on the group of the forest floor, no sign of Ophelia anywhere near him.

"Darwin!" Tom began to venture in the forests looking for the witch who slipped from his grasp. "Ophelia, show yourself now and I promise we can talk about this reasonable!"

The dark haired man's words didn't fall on any ears besides his own.

For the second time in a week-he couldn't find her...Tom Riddle found that he didn't like-not one bit.

* * *

 _He was going to really hurt me...He was going_ _ **hurt**_ _me…_

Ophelia Darwin found herself in front of Hermia's brick cottage. Tears of relief escaped from pale green eyes but they soon turn into heavy sobs. The half-blooded witch knocked weakly on the door to the house. "Hermia." Sobs choked Ophelia's words as she tried to speak, her body was gasping for air through tears while fighting to communicate. "H-Hermia!"

The door to the brick cottage swung open slowly, the white hair woman knew just by the sights of the younger witch, everything was wrong. She figured not only did the handsome young man lie to the British witch but Hermia figured she probably also had been correct about what his intention were. Ravenclaw's diadem was what the man wanted.

Much like Ophelia's own mother, Hermia took the younger female into her home without hesitation and placed the young witch on the couch for the moment.

Hermia made a proper bed for the young woman out of one of her children's old rooms, she placed a spell on her kitchen to make a kettle of tea make and serve itself should Ophelia want any. Hermia also took out some old dresses that used to belong to her daughter and placed it in the closet for Ophelia.

"Whenever you're ready to go to sleep, the first bedroom off to the left is yours. I also have tea out if you want any." Hermia thought about Ophelia a hug but decided against it. " If you need me, call out. Help yourself to whatever you'd want in the kitchen. Good night."

With that, the white haired woman excused herself off to bed while it took Ophelia roughly twenty minutes to stop sobbing. Her brain was pounding against her skull and a genuine sense of melancholy shook her body. Her eyes felt sore and hot from all the crying she did on top of feeling heavy but Ophelia couldn't sleep just yet.

In her time in New Orleans, Ophelia had learned a spell taught to her by a Louisiana Creole wizard. It was simple enough and effective and it was what her conscience needed to do before she went off to bed.

Ophelia's feet were quiet as she ventured into the kitchen and picked out a skinny looking paring knife and after a minute of holding her breath, she found the will to make a cut on her right thumb. She'd cut deep enough to make sure blood would immediately flow to the surface of her skin. The brunette walked to the front door of Hermia's house, knelt down, and in front of the door: a line of her blood was drawn straight across before she stamped her blood covered thumb in the center of that onto the floorboards.

As she did that, Ophelia chanted to herself softly. _"Protéjé -çilakoté." (_ Protect this home.) She watched as her blood sunk into deeper and deeper in the floor until it finally disappeared-a sign that the spell worked.

 _There,_ Ophelia told herself as she stood up and headed to bed. _You're safe...for now._ Her mind drifted off to sleep as soon as it came into contact with a pillow, but another thought slipped into her mind before she finally passed out.

 _Tom wouldn't really hurt me...would he?_


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. I also do not have a beta-reader so if there are errors here, please let me know so I can try and fix it. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.

I worked hard on this chapter; I got a serious case of writer's block trying to get this out and up here. I hope you all like it and if not then hey, I have the next chapter to make up for it.

I want to take the time to say I appreciate those who read and enjoy this series. My day brightens a little bit more when I see someone's reviewed my story, put it on their alerts list, or add it to their favorites list. (I really like reviews the best though, putting that out there.) Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

November 10, 1948

"Are you done sulking?"

"No."

"Please open the door."

"I will not."

Peter Elwood knocked on door that lead to the bathroom from the master bedroom. When Margo said they were both in a position and mature enough to start a family (by the 1940's standards, Margo had to point that out). Peter didn't think he'd be locked out of his own bathroom in his own house. Which by all accounts, didn't seem 'mature'.

 _You're having a child with this woman_. Peter reminded himself. _Be the better person._

Margo locked herself in the bathroom roughly about six in the morning; her feet were terribly swollen. She took to filling the tub with hot water and only took to soaking her feet while sitting on the edges of the tub. The blonde beauty was upset and no one _ **dare**_ try to contribute it to the pregnancy hormones.

Maybe she was being paranoid, maybe she was being slight bit controlling (again), and maybe it could honestly been the pregnancy hormones driving her batshit emotional.

"Love…" Peter knocked on the door, his mind was carefully looking for the words that would cause the least amount of anger out of his wife . "I respect your feelings and I know you're...in a mood." There was a pause as he scrambled to find the next part of his sentence. "With that being said, you can either open the open for me or I can unlock it myself."

"If you were smart, you'd just apparate over to the other side of the door!" Margo sassed back at her husband, she kicked the hot water. "Why are you even still here? Go to work!"

"You have a rule!" Peter screamed. "You don't like me apparating into the bathroom ever!" He drew out his wand and pointed it at the door. Peter had to remind himself that he loved his wife over and over in his head as entered the bathroom. "You need to stop this attitude of yours! It might be bad for the baby."

Margo didn't say anything.

Peter rolled the bottoms of his slacks up and sat next to his wife on the edges of the tub; he carefully rubbed her lower back (according to the muggle book Margo had him read, messaging her lower back would help relieve some pain.)

"You want to talk about it?"

Margo crossed her arms. "Yes."

"Alright, then talk."

"I feel like something is wrong, Peter." Margo started off. "Pipa's been gone since the sixth and I haven't gotten a letter from her yet. Nothing."

"She's only been gone four days, love. Give her time?" Peter replied back evenly; he couldn't let his voice show that he might have also been a slight bit worried.

"When she was in Fiji we got a letter from her by the second day she was there. She is also still in Europe so a letter from her should have reached us by now." Margo knew Ophelia, she would always find time to write a letter to let everyone know everything was fine. Sure the muggle postal system had its flaws- but two days at the most was how long it took (or at least with Peter and Margo's limited knowledge of the muggle postal system they thought so).

The brunette witch also had a system: she'd write the letter to her parent's address in West Berkshire, then Mister and Missus Darwin would have an owl deliver it to Margo and Peter's residence when they saw it was marked 'Elwood.'

One more thing, Margo desperately wanted to throw out was how in Tom's letters he'd ask her to use an owl when they'd correspond. Her being with him should have meant that Riddle would insist on using an owl-which meant maybe a couple hours wait to get a letter from the half-blooded witch instead of a day. Yet there was nothing and Margo was certain Tom Riddle would **_never_** get in the way of Ophelia Darwin corresponding to her friends and family in England.

Peter didn't really have a counter statement for everything Margo said; the points were valid since they made enough sense. He wasn't going to feed into Margo's worries though, if no one was notified about Ophelia's whereabouts the least everyone could do was hope for the best. "When I see William at work, I'll ask if he's heard from her. Let's not worry or fuss just yet. It's bad for the baby, love."

 _Comprise, Margo. Pete's probably right, he usually is._ Margo nodded her head in agreement. "Zyra will be over later so I'll ask her as well." There was pause before she forced the next statement out of her mouth. "Ask Edmund too if you see him at all?"

Peter nodded his head at his wife's request. "Are you going to ask Sel-."

"Fuck that bitch!" The pregnant woman huffed at the mention of her sister-in-law.

"Alright then."

They left it at that and merely hoped for the best in regards to Ophelia's well being.

* * *

Tom Riddle did not get a good night's rest. How could he? He spent the better part of the night trying to find a stupid half-blood witch only to come up with nothing to show for his effort.

What he did manage to do, stupidly enough, was finish the muggle book _Hamlet._ Before that, Tom tried to calm and satisfy his anger by blasting Ophelia's gramophone, record, and suitcase to bits. He originally meant to throw the book in the fireplace as soon as he was done ruining everything else, but he couldn't seem to release the book from his hold.

 _Her name is in here-it's in this book._ Tom even read about how death came about to Ophelia of Denmark: drowning. In a way he found an attachment to the book, despite being angry. Didn't he have an attachment to his journal? Granted, it was made into a horcrux but there was an attachment nonetheless.

When the day finally broke, he saw the errors of how he handled the situation. The issue wasn't so much his behavior or the sudden burst of irrationality. He never did care about his Ophelia's opinions towards him-he never bothered to impress her because she never had anything he desperately wanted.

He was trying to figure out what insulted him more. The fact that Ophelia knew something and lied to his face about it, or worse, the fact that she thought Tom wasn't smart enough to ever know when she was lying.

 _She definitely knows where Ravenclaw's diadem is._ It was obvious now to him now but how did she get to it before him? _Never mind, it doesn't matter._

Tom Riddle cleaned himself up and dressed sharply for the day. He ventured with a stronger confidence as he threw himself into researching a proper spell to locate Ophelia. She was the key to what he wanted.

He didn't care if took an hour, half the day, or even if his search bleed into the night.

Today was the day, he'd get Ravenclaw's diadem. He was sure of it.

* * *

It took Ophelia nearly two hours that day to come to the conclusion that Tom was really going to hurt her. It shook her to the core and even with the fear in her quiet now, Tom quite possibly scarred her mentally and emotionally.

The former Hufflepuff knew Tom was mean: she remembers the bruises, the burn mark from the door knob, and him dragging her around as he pleased...then there was that unexplained blank (or was it blanks) in her head when she tried to think of any other things he'd done.

 _But what if he was going to use the Cruciatus curse on me? Or worse?...You've seen him do it before too..._

Ophelia's chocolate brown hair felt heavy on her head while wet, she thought she wrung out most of the water from her hair but droplets that covered the back of the dress she borrowed proven otherwise.

The half-blooded witch was working on her fourth cigarette of the day by the time noon had rolled around. All she had done so far since she'd been up was look out the window from the comfort of the living room couch, smoke, drink water, and over think.

Admittedly if she could have kept her shit together maybe she'd be able to skirt around Tom's lies or whatever twisted plan he had on the agenda. She probably could have sneaked around him and returned Ravenclaw's lost tiara if she _wanted_.

With how poorly Ophelia handled everything, now she had no choice. She _needed_ to return Ravenclaw's diadem. Tom's reaction to her simply knowing he lied was enough to tip her off.

Ophelia didn't know what Tom would do, she didn't want to find out, and she knew she couldn't wait around for the perfect time to go and get the diadem.

"I wrote the letter like you asked, Ophelia. Now we wait for a reply." Hermia called out as she walked from the kitchen to the living, she had two bowls of chicken and vegetable stew. She placed one down in front of younger witch. "Eat."

"Thank you, Hermia." Ophelia put her cigarette out and took a sip of water before she started on the soup. She wasn't hungry but she was going to try and get something to eat while she had the chance to.

"For lunch or for writing the letter?" The older woman asked.

"The letter." Ophelia didn't hesitate to answer the question but she was hesitant to write the letter to Dumbledore. First, a part of her was scared that Dumbledore would tell her there was nothing in his power he could do to stop Tom. Secondly another portion of her directed some tiny, tiny amount of anger towards her old professor. Albus Dumbledore was the one who` inform Tom about Hogwarts and even sought him out from the St. Wool's orphanage.

The final point as to why Ophelia didn't find it in her ability to write to Dumbledore was because in the event things went wrong, the half-blooded witch didn't want a letter regarding such serious matter to be the last thing she ever wrote. Even if she wrote to William and Zyra, Margo and Peter, or her parents and her Poppa-it would be phrased with a dire connotation... she didn't want it to be the last thing she wrote.

Hermia pulled the brunette out of her feelings by asking a question. "How soon did you want to get this over with?"

"Honestly, now." Ophelia put the bowl of soup down, she hardly touched it.

"I haven't even arranged for you to leave Albania yet." Hermia then looked around her living to see if there was a clock anywhere in the room. There wasn't one. "We also have yet to hear from the man-."

"Hermia, please…"Ophelia's voice broke as she realized for perhaps the second or third time in her life-Tom Riddle didn't give any ounce of a damn about her. "I want to go home and you want the diadem off your hands."

The Albanian woman couldn't help but pity the child in front of her: women recognize heart break in other women-particularly younger women. _The child has a point though._

"Give me at least two and half hours, that's all I need to make sure I can secure you train ticket and a ferry ride. I only need to go into town and set it up." Hermia scratched at her hair, "It'd be safer for you to travel by muggle means, I bet."

Ophelia nodded and said nothing else for the moment. She was too afraid to go alone. A painfully tight and invisible force tightened around the half-blooded witch's heart right before it felt like it going shrink and disappear.

The handsome Tom Marvolo Riddle had Ophelia Mae Darwin's heart at his constant disposal and he's hurt it, toyed with it, and broke it multiples time. _..Why the fuck does he keep doing this shit to me! Why the fuck do I keep letting him!?_

The answer to those questions were in her heart and her mind agreed-but her soul was too scared to acknowledge the answer.

As promised, though the older woman came through early on the timeline that was set up. Hermia took an old and cracked leather messenger bag out of her closet, threw another set of her daughter's old clothing into the bag, some toast, and fresh pack of cigarettes in. She handed it over to Ophelia as they ventured into the woods. It was the least Hermia could do for Ophelia taking the burden of Ravenclaw's diadem off her hands.

"Take us on the quickest path to Ravenclaw's diadem," Hermia whispered into the trunk of a tree. "Keep us hidden as well please."

Rocks rolled, the ground shifted ever so slightly, twigs breaking echoed out in the air, and there was a soft rustle of leaves. A path revealed itself to the two witches.

Ophelia was expecting her heart rate and her blood pressure to rocket beyond normal throughout the hike to retrieve the diadem. At first, yes, every time she heard a bird sing Ophelia would tense up, look over her shoulder, and reach for her wand. After awhile from following Hermia's calm (and almost happy) demeanor-Ophelia found herself slightly more relaxed to a point where her hand wasn't constantly reaching for her wand.

In total it roughly forty-five minutes until the tree that hosted the diadem came into view.

"All yours now." Hermia reached into the center of the tree, pulled out the diadem and hurriedly went over to the younger witch. She stuffed it into the old messenger bag Ophelia carried. "I am trusting you with a burden that's been mine for close to forty years."

 _Thanks so much for reminding me._ Ophelia never let herself say anything along those lines as she tried to conceal Ravenclaw's tiara by throwing the clothes in the bag over it. Before closing the bag, Ophelia took out a cigarette for a already knew transfiguring the enchanted headpiece wasn't in her ability-considering it belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw and all.

Hermia quickly took to asking the forest to lead them as close to the train station as possible. Ophelia lit up her cigarette and walked right besides Hermia.

The half-blooded witch would look over her shoulder every now and then just to be sure they were safe and there was always a pinch of relief when Ophelia never saw anything suspicious….Although, it did make her wonder why.

"Looking for your lover boy?" Hermia croaked out during the walk. "He won't find us out in these woods."

Ophelia's face twisted with a small frown. "He's not-."

Hermia took the cigarette away from the British witch and began to smoke it until it was all used up herself. "Pft. Please, lie to whoever you want but know you cannot fool me."

"I was only expecting him to try and take this," Ophelia gestured to the messenger bag she wore on her shoulder. "Guess he didn't want it so bad."

With a quick flick, Hermia disposed of the cigarette bud. "Count your blessings, Ophelia."

A bitterness prickled inside of Ophelia's conscience: she was born in this world neither blessed or lucky or anything else in between the two. _It's only a matter of time until something pops up for me._ The half-blooded witch continued to go deeper into her thoughts, she didn't really feel the need to talk. _I know the universe has it out for me, but if today happens to be a blessed day for me, then I'll become a nun...No delayed train ride, no seasickness on the ferry, no Tom anywhere in between all of that and I swear on my life, I'll become a damn nun._

* * *

 _05-10-1948_

 _To Whom It May Concern-preferably-Albus Dumbledore:_

 _My name is Hermia._

 _I am writing this letter on behalf of a witch by the name of Ophelia. Brown hair, green eyes, twiggy looking body but a cute face more or less. I am also writing this letter from Albania. I won't get deep into the specifics due to, let's say safety reasons. She has something important, something that MUST be returned to Hogwarts. Ophelia has taken a responsibility off my hands and it is now all on her to do the rest._

 _Should anything unusual happen to her-death, injury, unexplained markings on her body-she mentioned a young man by the name of Tom._

 _With all due respect, do not write back to me for I will have no answers to any questions that might arise._

Albus Dumbledore tapped his fingers quietly on his desk as he re-read the letter in his possession over and over again. _Miss Darwin. Oh, Miss Darwin what have you gotten into and with Tom Riddle involved no less!_ It didn't take long for the auburn haired wizard to figure out what Ophelia had in her possession, the mention of Albania and the stressed emphasis on returning the item was enough.

What the letter failed to mention was when Dumbledore's former student would be back in England or where to find Ophelia. The letter seemed more like a dark explanation to an unlucky event that hadn't happened yet.

Then there was the issue of Tom. Albus was not able to prove the former prefect's involvement with the death of Hepzibah Smith. Many witches and wizards were talking though, particularly about how she loved to show off two priceless antiques. Those same witches and wizards were also quick to point out how now, those two antiques were missing.

While others who didn't get the chance to see it at all stated up and down that everyone who claimed to see any of the antiques were all liars and Hepzibah Smith would never have anything of _extreme_ value in her home.

"This has dark magic all over it." Albus Dumbledore whispered to himself as he finally found it in his power to stop reading the letter another too many times. The sad truth sink into the professor's bones as he realized that Tom was beyond saving and that maybe Tom didn't want to be saved to begin with.

Then something even more gut wrenching dawned on the professor-he might not even be able to save Ophelia.

Albus prepared himself for the worst case scenario:finding a dead body.

* * *

By the time the older witch and the younger witch arrived to the train station, both were tired, out of breath, and ready to be done with the day. The only reason why they weren't hungry was because they'd eaten the toast Hermia packed.

Judging from the sky, it was probably four or maybe five in the evening.

"Tickets," Hermia dug into the pocket of her dress and handed two rectangular sheets of paper to Ophelia. "One is for the train, the other for the ferry."

"Thank you." Ophelia held onto the tickets with the strong grip of anxiety. She'd made this far and all without any problems-so something was just around the corner from fucking everything up. _Or maybe you're paranoid_.

Hermia gave the brunette a kind smile and she gently patted the younger witch's face. "No, thank you. You have a safe journey if you can help it."

"I will try." Ophelia replied. She had gotten used to saying 'goodbye' to many of her mentors when it came to her experiences traveling. Most of the time it was filled with a bittersweet energy and there was always the insistence that Ophelia come back, goodbye with Hermia didn't have that impact.

It was quick, to the point, and importantly: the goodbye was done. Also without coming off as too rude: Hermia mentioned not wanting see Ophelia again and Ophelia was happy to hear that.

Albania was nice, but not really what the brunette wanted in the first place. Hermia however did get the Albania she wanted-one without Ravenclaw's diadem.

Ophelia Darwin was able to find to board onto the train and settle into a compartment. She waited for the train to start moving before she closed the little sliding door of the compartment she was in; her fingers picked at the scab over her thumb. She needed some blood to do the protection spell again and much like before: a thin red line was drawn on the floor with a bloody thumbprint in the middle of it.

It might not have been a home she was currently in, but Ophelia was assuming it would still be a little bit effective. At the very least, no one could get into the compartment without her inviting them in.

"Fuck me," Ophelia whispered as she kicked her heeled oxfords off and saw how red and blistered her feet were. Her eyes were heavy and she found herself trying to fight off sleep but it felt so good to sit down and be still. Sleep claimed her in no less than five minutes.

* * *

Tom was extremely resourceful when he needed to be. He could admit he'd gotten lazy but he'd make sure to never do that again. Albania wasn't his getaway destination, he wasn't taking a holiday-he came to Albania for a reason.

Currently, that 'reason' was on the train.

It took Tom roughly two hours but he was able to pull out a location spell that dated back to Medieval times...Well, it was more of a hunting spell than a location spell but what really was the difference?

The point of the spell was to show the user how recently or how long ago their target was in an area. If the target was there recently your wand would emit a bright yellow light, and if the target was there a while ago a dark purple color would show. Then if the user of the spell was extremely close and their target was within their grasp-the user would feel a force tugging at their wand to continue in a particular direction.

The heir of Slytherin kept getting lost in the woods hunting down Ophelia, but as he stood outside the train compartment he knew he was going to get what he wanted. Tom easily spotted her sleeping form through the window on the compartment she was in. He reached a hand out to pull the door open. A jolt of pain surged through his body when only a finger was placed on the compartment handle.

"Shit," Tom hissed as he then reached for his wand. " _Alohomora_." The compartment door wiggled slightly but nothing else happened. He reached for the handle and again another jolt of pain went through his body, this time it was stronger than the first. _Fuck!_ His brown eyes focused on the sleeping witch, she was oblivious to what was going on in the hallway of the train. He eyed the messenger bag right next to her, he was sure the diadem had to be in there.

"Fuckin' bloody Christ, Ophelia." Tom Riddle pinched the bridge of his nose before pinching his chin with a thoughtful expression on his face. _I can wait her out. She'll have to get out of that compartment sooner or later._ Tom walked over to the compartment that was next to Ophelia's-he was extremely lucky that not many people were on this particular train ride.

He was equally tired as Ophelia, if not more since he sure got less sleep than her. He dozed off for no more than twenty-five minutes; the sound of familiar footsteps and a well known voice cussing reached Tom's ear and his snapped open instantly.

"My feet," Ophelia stated in a small whisper. "Shite, I'm going to need some blister cream for these."

 _Now_. Tom thought as he stood up and inched carefully out towards the halls of the train. When he was sure Ophelia was right outside his compartment, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her in. One hand went straight over her mouth so in case Ophelia screamed, other passengers wouldn't hear her.

Ophelia Darwin was pushed into a seat; her hand reached for the wand in her pocket but Tom was quicker. He always was faster than her unfortunately. With one wave of his hand, her wand flew directly to him. Then with another wave of his hand, the compartment door shut with a quiet click.

 _All I wanted was a drink of water._ Ophelia clutched the messenger bag in her possession close to her chest.

The way Tom Riddle looked at her...She couldn't find a word for it. Yes, Ophelia could describe how his gaze made her understand how a trapped animal felt when in a corner. The look in Tom's eyes though? There was no word to capture how dark and malicious focus that turned Tom's eyes from brown to a solid red.

"You ran away from me." Tom sat down across from the half-blooded witch; there was a scowl on his face but it wasn't too prominent to where it made him look too unappealing.

Ophelia tightened her grip on the bag and looked out the window. She didn't want to meet his eyes. _Don't let him take it...God, or whoever is listening, please don't let Tom take it..._

Tom narrowed his eyes at her; contorting his handsome face into a menacing expression. "You ran away from me!" He balled his fists up, he wanted to hurt her but he found enough self-control not to. "It's fine though, Ophelia. I can forgive you for turning your back on me." Tom knew how to phrase his words to manipulate the conversation, " _ **Darling**_ , how could I not forgive you? You went out and got Ravenclaw's diadem for me."

"I did no such thing." Ophelia replied softly, her eyes still avoiding his. " Tom, Ravenclaw's diadem is going back to Hogwarts. Where it belongs."

"Such noble words from a runner and a failed Hogwarts student." Tom spat out as his hand moved through the air and latched onto the messenger bag. He pulled on it with all the physical strength he could muster in hopes to separate the messenger bag from the brunette. Tom underestimated how desperately she didn't want him to get the diadem. The pretty witch had been dragged to the floor, on her knees, and in between his legs as a result of this.

He felt the heat of Ophelia's body against his groin, there was the ever so slight scent of cinnamon, and there was a hint of frustration in her pale green eyes that threatened to pour out.

Tom could help but think how delicious the half-blooded witch looked.

A free hand of Tom's hand found its way to his wand. He aimed the wand on Ophelia's cheek and for a second something in her mind told her that she'd been in a situation like this before with him. No memories surfaced through her thoughts-blanks, shades of white, no picture of words could explain why Ophelia felt like she'd been in this situation with Tom before!

 _You've never been in this situation with him before, Ophelia...You haven't! It's all in your head...Unless...No...No! No! No!_ Tears fell from Ophelia's eyes and she pulled her face as far as she could from the former prefect's wand. "Tom! Don't! Please!"

 _Too late my dear._ The words of the spells Tom used on Ophelia came out as soon as he chose to ignore her little plea. A deep and heavy sleeping spell was put on Ophelia and her memories of what Tom had done _this_ time was pulled out of her pretty little head.

Carefully, the heir of Slytherin picked Ophelia off from her knees and placed her body in a sitting position next to him. He then removed the messenger bag out of her grip and quickly stuffed his hand into the bag. Tom ignored the clothes, the pack of cigarettes, and just like a toddler: he grabbed at the pretty and shiny thing in the bag.

A genuine smile was on Tom's face as he held Ravenclaw's diadem in his hand. He got what he wanted and he got it in almost less than a week-which was possibly a first on how soon Tom could get his hand on a horcrux.

 _Potential horcrux at the moment._ Tom stood up slowly as to not disturb the sleeping witch next to him. He needed a soul for his soul to attach to Ravenclaw's diadem. Tom studied Ophelia's face; her face was still a little wet from the tears that escaped from those pale green eyes of hers.

He wiped the tears off her face before he put the silver headpiece into the messenger bag and hunted down an unsuspecting muggle.

* * *

"Excuse me! Excuse me!"

"Is something wrong?"

Tom Riddle forced an expression of concern on his face as he lied to what looked like a middle aged Albania man. "My wife!" Tom forced out with a fake panic in his voice. "She and I were out on the bay window caboose of this train and she fainted!"

"I'll inform the train staff, maybe they have a medic on hand." The man shot up from his chair, ready to announce the tragic news.

"No." Tom quickly snapped back. "I need help now! My wife needs the help now!"

That was all it took for the middle aged stranger to start following Tom towards the end of the train and outside framed edged of the caboose. He was going to turn around to ask the young man a question, but he was never able to.

Tom pointed his wand at the back of the muggle's head as soon as they were outside. " _Avada Kedavra."_ A green light shot out from the heir of Slytherin's wand, the sound of a body falling to the ground soon followed. Tom pulled Ravenclaw's diadem out of the messenger bag and began to chant a spell. He felt something hook into his skin and bury deeper and deeper into his body: going past muscles, bones, into his veins until that hook found what little was left of his soul.

He stifled a shout of pain as Tom felt a piece of his soul being sliced out of his essence of being. Instead a low groan escaped as Tom despite how hard he tried to silence the unpleasant energy that tore his soul apart. The experience only last about a couple of minutes but to Tom Riddle, it felt like it was longer than that.

It was over only when Tom saw a black light exited out from the center of his chest and go straight into Ravenclaw's diadem. _Now for the body,_ Tom looked over the body of the middle aged man he killed as he sorted the diadem back into messenger bag.

This man probably had a family, maybe a dog-he more than likely had a good childhood and had a nice home with a grand tree in the backyard. None of that mattered in the grand scheme of things but Tom didn't see the harm in guessing how mediocre the muggle man's life was, it was amusing to Tom sometimes.

 _You all die alone anyways, no matter how much love or family you had when you were alive. You born into this world and you will die alone._

Before he completely disposed of the body, Tom saw that in the man's pocket was a rather square looking bulge. " _Accio_." A pink letter cardboard box flew at the handsome young man; he easily caught and opened it with one hand.

There was note: ' _ **Sorry I couldn't afford anything better when we were first married. Happy 10 years of marriage and more to come.'**_

 _Hope they were a good ten years_. A cruel chuckle escaped Tom's lips as he threw the note to be carried off by the wind that whipped around the train. What soon caught Tom's attention next was the bright light emitted from a silver ring. His eyes widened slightly at the gem in center of the silver band-one look at it and reminded Tom so much of a certain pair of eyes he was so familiar with. Tom pulled the ring out of its box and inspected it closely.

The band was simple, made out of silver with no access gems embedded onto it. There were three perfectly rounded gems on the silver band; the two gems that sat on either side of the main jewel were diamonds; while the main jewel itself was a simple green amethyst.

Tom placed the ring into the messenger bag as well without a moment to even spare before he flicked his wand ever so slightly through the air: the body of the muggle began to chip away into ashes. He didn't care too much if the dead muggle wanted to be cremated or not, the body just needed to be gone. With a calm and quiet attitude overtaking his body, he soon turned around and headed back to the compartment he left Ophelia in.

There was relief that hit Tom when he saw that the half-blooded witch was still unconscious. He took the messenger bag off his body and reached into it for the ring. A sense of shame crept up on the heir of Slytherin, completing erasing the relief out of his system. The shame wasn't from Tom dragging Ophelia against her own to Albania, subjecting her to the Imperious curse, and then having her forget it all.

It had nothing at all to do with any forms of abuse or manipulation he put Ophelia Mae Darwin through.

No.

The shame that pumped through his body was because Tom Marvolo Riddle, heir of Slytherin, soon to be the most powerful wizard to in history allowed himself to put a ring on a witch whose blood would never be his equal.


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. I also do not have a beta-reader so if there are errors here, please let me know so I can try and fix it. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.

This series is rated 'M' for a reason-there is a sex scene in this here chapter.

Sorry for the overdue update. I didn't mean to post this chapter late, I meant to post two weeks ago but life fucking kick the shit out of me. I am sorry guys!

I want to take the time to say I appreciate those who read and enjoy this series. My day brightens a little bit more when I see someone's reviewed my story, put it on their alerts list, or add it to their favorites list. (I really like reviews the best though, putting that out there.) Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

November 13, 1948

Tom Riddle sat down in front of Dumbledore's desk, he was relaxed as he leaned in far back into the chair as he could. The heir of Slytherin was happy to be back in Hogwarts-even if the invite Albus Dumbledore sent out to Ophelia didn't extend over to Tom. In the brief moments before having to meet up with his former Transfiguration teacher, Tom had hidden Ravenclaw's diadem while Ophelia walked on her own to Dumbledore's office.

Albus narrowed his eyes slightly, not at Tom. No. The professor's eyes were narrowed and focused on the half-blooded witch who was in his office as well.

There was the up side-Ophelia Darwin was alive.

The down side-Albus knew the Ravenclaw diadem was gone and there was no way he'd be able to so bluntly confront Tom about the whereabouts of said diadem. Dumbledore also had to keep the letter he received from a witch in Albania a secret.

"I am fine, I swear." Ophelia Darwin reassured her old professor. There was a small nagging feeling that nipped at Ophelia as she said that but it didn't last too long. "I am fine." She repeated, unable to say much else. There was just...nothing. Nothing else in Ophelia's mind that could help her come up with more words.

Albus folded his hands on the top of his desk. "I am relieved you are fine, Miss Darwin." The auburn haired wizard looked over to Tom. "Shame you had to cancel your trip in Albania."

"It was the right thing to do." Tom calmly lied; he put a hand over Ophelia's. It was the hand that wore the ring Tom put on her. "It would not be right if we didn't return to England. Ophelia's family was worried."

 _My family was worried?_ A look of mild concern flicked on the brunette's face but it faded away as soon as it came.

Dumbledore looked back at the former Hufflepuff. "Do you remember falling?"

Ophelia's mind replayed the blurred memory of her in Albania, getting on the train. "I-."

Tom interrupted before Ophelia could say anything. "Professor, it was a traumatic incident, I doubt she could have remembered much."

"I remember getting on the train." Ophelia stated as soon as she could. She wasn't sure if she was stating it for Dumbledore or for Tom or for herself. She just felt like she had to say _something._ "That's it though."

A sigh from Albus Dumbledore echoed through the room. "I see." He forced a smile to his face, it was small. "Well, I don't want to keep you here much longer. I am sure you have other things you'd like to do today."

Ophelia nodded and stood up from her chair, "Enjoy the rest of your day, Professor." She threw a wave at her old Transfiguration teacher as she exited out of his office.

With a slow turn of the head Dumbledore then looked at Tom Riddle.

There was no expression, not even one of smugness was on his face. "Professor." Tom started off as he began to take his leave from the presence of Albus Dumbledore. "Take care."

The heir of Slytherin wasn't expecting a strong and rather emotionally geared statement from the older wizard.

"If you care about her, even a little, you should let her go." Albus said with a cold strictness heavy in his tone of voice. "You're going to ruin her."

A scoff came from Tom's lips. "Do you have proof I am even ruining her?" A silence fell in the room as the heir of Slytherin left.

* * *

Two magic users walked along each other as they ventured around London. There was particular destination in mind as they walked about but Tom Riddle did make sure they steered clear from anywhere that could have led to St. Wool's Orphanage.

Ophelia Darwin smoked a little cigarette as they walked aimlessly about. It was perhaps her sixth one of the day if Ophelia left like lying, and if Ophelia felt like telling the truth it was perhaps her ninth cigarette of the day.

"Those things cannot be good for your health." Tom glared at the cigarette in between the brunette's lips.

Ophelia shrugged her shoulders and stopped dead in her tracks. Her green eyes fixed on Big Ben and on the rest of the Palace of Westminster.

In a quiet movement, Tom plucked the cigarette from Ophelia's lips and threw it onto the ground.

"You really shouldn't have picked up such an ugly habit." Tom lectured Ophelia but he felt that her mind wasn't completely 'awake'.

"An ugly habit would have been if I took coke as often as the coven of witches in Chicago." Ophelia's voice was soft and smooth as she could remember Chicago and her time there so clearly. The sounds, the smells, the places she went to and the weather. Now, Ophelia was struggling to remember what she did yesterday.

"What did you say?" Tom wasn't sure he heard right. His emotions were a dangerous and sad mix of anguish and vexation.

Ophelia looked at Tom with confusion plastered all over her face. "What's wrong, Tom?" There was a distinct look of disappointment on his face. She walked closer to him and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. "Tom?"

Somehow in the heir of Slytherin's mind, Tom put all the blame on Ophelia's need to travel. He knew for a fact before Ophelia's traveling days, the brunette never let a cigarette touch her lips before she started to travel. Ophelia was almost no better than street urchin with a drug addiction. Almost.

Ophelia saw how Tom's disappointment expression twisted into a completely different emotion.

"Do you even travel to learn new magic or is that all a front to go and do drugs?" Tom spat out with his eye narrowed with extreme prejudice at Ophelia. _Bloody hell...What the fuck else has she done?_

"It's not like I am addicted to anything illegal." Ophelia countered back with a frown of her own. Her eyes scanned around the wide and public area they were in and she was able to see that a few other bystanders were throwing her and Tom some looks. "Besides, what I've done is none of your business."

"Then you should have never made your original comment." Tom hissed back without a moment to spare. He was scared-deep down in the secretive corners of his mind-he was. His immortality was practically sealed, he only had one more horcrux to go.

However, Ophelia was as human as human could be. She was born and now all she had to do was die, who knew if it would be sooner or later with all the cigarettes she smokes and whatever other drugs she took.

 _How selfish of you!_ Tom screamed in his mind. He would hate to admit anything sincere towards the half-blooded witch but he definitely had to admit this: Ophelia was a constant in his life. In a way-Tom shared a life with her.

"Tom, stop it." Ophelia and Tom's hands were still intertwined. "People are looking at us."

"You think I give a shit about muggles and their stares," Tom gave a gentle squeeze as they held hands. "You're ruining yourself."

Ophelia pulled her hand away from the former Slytherin prefect and she took a big step back. She disagreed with the wizard in her presence. "I'd like to think I'm just living."

Reality was sinking in for Tom Riddle. "Come on." There was a slight hint of remorse as he stayed in still in his spot. "I'll take you home."

"Thank you." Ophelia shot one more look at the Palace of Westminster and its grand clock tower.

Tom walked Ophelia up to the door of a well size and pleasant looking enough home in West Berkshire; a note written in perfect cursive was pinned to the door.

 _ **Pipa,**_

 _ **Your mother and I are stepping out for today and the next two days for a small holiday. We'll be in Dorset. I'll have your Mum give you a ring on the line tomorrow if we get the chance. Poppa's off with his old friends on some sort of camping trip...If he comes home early please make sure he didn't sneak a pixie in like last time.**_

 _ **-Dad.**_

"For a moment I thought it was an eviction notice." Ophelia sighed as she reached for her wand and gave it a small and subtle swish. It didn't seem like any of her neighbors were out and about today. The door unlocked and swung open slightly. "Care for tea or cake before you use the floo system?"

Tom was hesitant to step through the threshold to enter Ophelia's home. Last time he stepped into a muggle house, Tom killed his father and grandparents. His mind went straight to justifying why he wouldn't have clause to kill the brunette. _She's only a half-blood...not a first generation mud-blood._ The heir of Slytherin stepped in and a sense of discomfort settled on him...This building was not just a house, it in every sense felt like a warm home.

Nevertheless, the handsome man took a seat on a recliner chair that was facing the family couch in a rather slanted way.

"Tom?" Ophelia brought out a tray of tea and coffee and a small slice of cheesecake out to the living room. "Tea?" She placed the tray on the medium size coffee table as she took a seat on the spot of the couch that allowed her to be close enough to Tom from where he sat.

The handsome young man went ahead and fixed himself a cup of tea as the brunette witch sweetened up her coffee. Tom's eyes drifted through the living room, the two things that caught his attention the most was the small spinet piano and the gramophone station next to the piano on a little stand.

Tom looked at Ophelia, then back at the musical items. _Ophelia likes music, doesn't she?_

"Are there no records in your home?" Tom asked as he gestured to the gramophone.

The former Hufflepuff finished off her coffee and put it back on the tray. "There are but," Ophelia shrugged and gazed into Tom's brown eyes. "I don't want to listen to music right now."

 _Interesting._ Tom went ahead and finished off his tea. "I see."

Silence hung around the witch and wizard. Ophelia didn't find it too bothering...There was a loud static going on her mind since perhaps she and Tom got back from Albania. Currently, in Tom's presence the sound of static stopped and the silence was greatly welcomed.

Tom on the other had was slightly bothered. The silence was only made what little fraction of his conscience think of how the use of the ' _Obliviate_ ' spell might have been changing Ophelia. The heir of Slytherin drew his wand out and with an elegant twist of his wrist, a spell charged out from his wand and attached itself the gramophone.

" _ **I don't know why, but I'm feeling so sad. I long to try something I've never had. Never had no kissin'. Oh, what I've been missin'. Lover man, oh, where can you be?"**_

Ophelia arched an eyebrow at Tom but said nothing. _He's the guest in your home, I suppose._

She never thought Tom Riddle was one to ever want to use music in background for...well anything. _Or at the very least,_ Ophelia thought to herself as she watch Tom pick at the cheesecake she put on the tray for him. _I don't think he liked what I listen to._

Anyone who knew Ophelia Mae Darwin very well, knew that her favorite songs were always that of love songs. Happy, sad, fast, slow, or otherwise-if it was a love song or a song about love-Ophelia would be all over it.

" _ **The night is cold and I'm so all alone, I'd give my soul just to call you my own. Got a moon above me, but there's no one to love me. Lover man, oh, where can you be?"**_

 _Is this a muggle song too?_ Tom's eyes widened for a brief millisecond at lyric pertaining to giving up the soul for the sake of having a life partner. "Who sings this?" He put down the little dish that held the cheesecake; he only took four bites but didn't care for any more sweets.

"Billie Holiday." Ophelia answered as the song 'Lover Man' played on. A smile broke out on her face, "I almost, _almost_ got to see her perform when she was in New Orleans. But I didn't finish learning a spell and I didn't want to leave until I did. ." The half-blooded witch looked at her right hand-her focus heavily on her thumb. "Took me nearly a month to get it right."

A scab was supposed to be on that thumb, but there wasn't and there was no way, with Ophelia's memory wiped, for her to remember using the protection spell recently.

Tom had caught a glimpse of the cut on her thumb on the way back from Albania. He healed it up as soon as he caught it; he wasn't going to risk leaving any physical marks anywhere on her body that could have triggered a memory to come to the half-blooded witch.

 _So it is a muggle song then._ The heir of Slytherin stood up from where he sat and soothed out the non-existent wrinkles in his trousers. "I think I will take my leave."

Ophelia nodded her head. "Of course." She started to make her way to her Poppa's office. "You can use the floo network here to get to where ever you need." The red door to Gregory Darwin's office wasn't hidden like it usually was, much to her convenience. "Floo powder is one the left hand corner of the book shelf-help yourself."

Strange book titles got the eye of the heir of Slytherin as he reached for the floo powder. _'Emergency Spells For the Desert.'_ He arched an eyebrow at that. ' _Remodeling for Haunted Homes_ ' and the most interesting book title Tom saw so far was, ' _Yodeling for the Soul.'_

 _That last one is probably a muggle book more than anything._ Tom thought to himself but found himself studying the office that belonged to the eldest member of the Darwin family. The mismatched furniture, scattered papers over his desk, old cups and dishes on random spots in the office, and more books were sprinkled on the floor.

"Looking for a book for the road?" Ophelia asked as she took the floo powder out of Tom's hands and walked to the fireplace in the little office. Rather offhandedly she couldn't help smile to herself. "The old herbology book we used to share our second year is somewhere in here."

"I bet." Tom replied as his mind reeled back to him and Ophelia and trading noted and books during their second year at Hogwarts. There should have been a tone of nostalgia or maybe even sincerity in his voice but it was only a usual firm and monotone tone. He walked over to Ophelia and stood in front of the fireplace with her. His brown eyes still eyed the ring on her left hand, the amethyst gem with diamonds on the side sat pretty on her ring finger. _She still hasn't said anything about it yet…_

Ophelia opened the bag of floo powder up and gently nudge Tom's elbow with hers.

Tom grabbed a handful of powder out of the bag and stepped into the fireplace. He kept his gaze on Ophelia's face.

"It was good seeing you." Ophelia stated evenly and with a kindness in her voice.

The heir of Slytherin narrowed his eyes at the brunette. "I'll be seeing you again. Tonight."

Ophelia closed the bag of floo powder and the confusion that overtook her face was obvious. "Why?"

"I want an answer by tonight, Ophelia." Tom wanted an answer then and there but he knew he wasn't going to get one. "Expect me by ten o'clock, ten thirty at the latest."

Ophelia's heart jumped in her chest much like it would if someone had jumped out of corner and given her a scare. "I thought I had more time...you know, to think it over?"

"Changed my mind." Tom replied back. "However, you have at least ten more hours to give me an answer."

"Can't this wait?" Ophelia asked. She didn't like how Tom, who usually did whatever he wanted and whenever he wanted was suddenly so fixated on a 'yes or no' question. "Please?"

"Eleven o'clock then." Tom stated. "There, you now have roughly eleven hours until I see you." With that, the handsome young man threw the floo powder down to the fireplace floor. A green flame licked over Tom's body and he disappeared to Knockturn Alley.

An empty and sinking feeling crept on Ophelia and stayed until she could no longer take being alone in her home.

* * *

Zyra Zolotov narrowed her eyes at the news her husband so casually brought up while the were visiting the Blaine family. If William wasn't holding their daughter she would have strangled him.

"It's not like she has to marry him." William swayed from side to side in his chair as he tried to get his baby to sleep. "I am not going to have our daughter betrothed when she is only an infant."

Margo shot a side glance at Peter before throwing her gaze back to William and Zyra. That was another thing Peter and Margo needed to decide with their baby, especially since they were pure-bloods. _Should we let our children pick who they love or should we pick for them?_

"Who is the family?" Peter asked before taking a sip of gin and tonic from his cup.

"Zabini." William replied. "They are a pure-blooded family as well-."

That irked Zyra even more. "Pure-blooded as well? William," The South African witch's tone hinted at anger. "Your daughter is still a small part half-blood whether or not you acknowledge it."

William sighed and cradled his daughter closer to his chest. "I didn't mean it like that, Zyra. Please, I am sorry. It came out like that and I didn't mean for it to, sorry."

Yara Zolotov, only six months old and both her parents knew she was going to be beautiful as she got older. The baby had skin like her mother-that soft and warm shade of ebony. Unlike her mother, the baby's eyes were lighter than her mother and her hair was also a much lighter shade of black. Yara had her father's fine nose and she has William's ears but everything else was all Zyra.

The fireplace in the front parlor cracked alive as green flames shot up from the ashes. Ophelia emerged from the flames and made herself comfortable at the table her friends sat at. She was careful to hide her left hand from her friends; Ophelia tucked her left hand behind her back.

"Hold on." Margo shot a glare at her friend. "When did you get back?"

"Today." Ophelia answered with outward confidence. "There wasn't much in Albania."

"Oh?" Peter was curious just as everyone else, if not more. "Like there were tourist attractions to see or what?"

William narrowed his eyes at that statement. "No, I have family in Albania and there are many sights to see and things to do."

"Sure there are, darling." Zyra commented with a sight roll of her eyes.

Then it the half-blooded witch, as she noted how everyone at the table (besides her) had a life partner and a baby or a baby on the way. A painful ache shot through Ophelia's soul and body-a part of her was willing to admit wanted that.

"Want to stay for dinner?" Peter asked as he stood up from his chair. "I'll go let out house elf know so she can make enough for everyone."

Margo answered Ophelia's question for her. "Of course she'll be staying over for dinner, Peter." She then snapped her head to look over to Ophelia. "The real question is, will you be staying the night?"

"Not tonight, I can't." The brunette answered with a soft tone. Ophelia quickly slipped the ring off of her finger and hid it in the pocket of her dress. "Sorry."

Dinner with friends when everyone is single is a fun thing, it gets strange when all the friends are married.

"No wine?" Ophelia noted as they all ventured to the dining room. "Or vodka?"

"Breastfeeding." William answered.

"Pregnant." Peter stated.

A small chuckle was released from Ophelia's mouth as she noted how the men were the ones to answer her question as if they were the ones who carried babies in the stomachs or produced milk for the infants. _They went from teens with a possible drinking problem to responsible husbands. That makes my soul happy._

"So Albania really had nothing for you?" Zyra asked. "At all?"

Ophelia didn't want to dwell too much on the fact that Albania was just a haze in her mind. So a lie would have to suffice for the moment. "We went during a wrong season-should have waited for the summer."

Margo sighed and rubbed her belly, the baby that grew inside her gave a kick. "Spain. I've told you, Pipa, go to Spain."

"Mexico is still on my mind." Ophelia answered as food began to float over from the kitchen to the table. As dinner went on, the half-blooded witch quietly studied her married friends.

Zyra and William.

Margo and Peter.

Each individual held something of respect, love, consideration, and kindness for their partner.

Another dull ache tore through Ophelia Darwin as envy circled through her again but it would help her form the answer to Tom's question.

* * *

Tom Riddle made himself comfortable in the home of the Darwin family. He'd arrived early to Ophelia's home and not to surprise his surprise, she wasn't there. Tom went ahead planted himself in Gregory Darwin's study, admiring the many books cluttered in the room (by that, it means he didn't take any of the books the old man had seriously).

An hour and a half went by before Ophelia calmly emerged out of the fireplace. She froze in her steps for a millisecond at the sight of the handsome man in her grandfather's chair.

"You're early." Ophelia committed at the obvious to initiate a conversation with the tall, dark, and often rude wizard. "Last I checked, it was barely even ten o'clock."

"This is an important decision to be made," Tom flicked his wand through the air and an old wooden chair moved from the corner of the room to a spot directly in front of him. "It would be best for me to be prompt." That and he was rather somewhat uneasy….He was letting someone else be in charge of a decision.

Ophelia sat down in front of Tom and she probably should have felt anxious but she didn't. In all honesty, the brunette with pale green eyes felt the same.

The heir of Slytherin looked down at Ophelia's left hand. "Where is the ring?" The absence of the ring on her finger was already looking to be a bad start.

 _Right, right_. Ophelia dug into her pocket and pulled the mention accessory out and slipped onto her ring finger. "Token of your tolerance towards me, right, Tom?"

"Correct." Tom looked over Ophelia.

"A thank you card would have sufficed, you know." Ophelia stared into Tom's dark eyes, a small hint of warmth almost radiated from how his gaze. _He's never...looked at me like that…._

"A ring lasts longer than a card." Tom wasn't being honest. When was he ever honest with Ophelia? She (unintentionally or not) brought him Ravenclaw's _fucking_ diadem-Tom could admit that the witch deserved more than a measly piece of paper. "Our whole…" Tom elegantly waved a hand in the air to gesture between him and Ophelia. "Dynamic, everything, would be meaningless to apply to a card anyhow."

"Sure, I guess." Ophelia looked over at the ring on her hand; it was beautiful but it made her feel a strong sadness. It fit her finger perfectly, it matched her eyes wonderfully, and she loved the way the gems were cut. The thing about it though, is somehow, Ophelia felt like this ring was not meant for her.

 _Enough of this banter_. The warmth in Tom's eyes soon turned into that of impatience. "Since we're both here earlier than expected, I'd like an answer now."

"I know you would." Ophelia sighed. "Though I'd like clarification."

Tom pinched the bridge of nose and suck a breath in as a sign of impatience starting to manifest physically. "Domestic partnership. There will be a nice estate I am going to be receiving here shortly and I'd like you to occupy one of the rooms." _Preferably one closest to me._

 _A domestic partnership?_ Ophelia's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Do you mean like marriage?" _This is either too sudden or Tom's finally trying to be normal._ A metaphoric spark lit a parade of wild emotions in the half-blood witch.

Bewilderment-because never did she think that Tom Riddle would ever consideration the notion of long term commitment to someone else.

Uncertainty-because, well, married life with a man such as Tom was nothing she could ever predict.

Happiness-in Ophelia's time in observing her friends at dinner...she realized that she did want to share her life with someone, she wanted to make a family.

"No."

"No?"

Tom shook his head with disgust. "Not a marriage."

Shame...Embarrassment...Slight envy and melancholy easily crashed on her.

"Ophelia, dear." Tom cleared his throat. "Marriage isn't this great and sacred bond muggles and wizards think it to be." His tone was on a level of such self-righteousness and arrogance that it was almost amazing. "Nott is unfaithful; Lestrange is unfaithful. Malfoy doesn't even know his wife and is on the brink of having an affair." A scoff came from the handsome man's lips. "Marriage is an excuse to throw a party and have your guests shag each other."

 _He's asking you to be his roommate then..._ There was a quiet echo of sadness in Ophelia's soul when she realized Tom never saw a healthy marriage and that, she could understand. The utter toxic in Tom's voice as he spoke about something he wasn't going to attempt.

"No then." Ophelia stood up from her wooden chair. "Thank you but I am not interested in a domestic partnership."

"Yet you're interested in marriage?" Tom arched an eyebrow at the brunette and couldn't help but feel a sense of anger. _She must love picking the wrong answer._

"So what if I am?" Ophelia challenged the handsome man. "Is that so bad, Tom? Do you think it so gross that I want to share a life and a home with you?"

"Oh, please." Tom replied back. "What life could we share together? You're gallivanting around practicing common street tricks and putting drugs into your body. I'm sorry, Ophelia but that wouldn't be my idea of a lifestyle I'd like to share"

"You know…" Ophelia allowed each word Tom said to cut her deep. "Or well, maybe you don't know. I used to liked you-not over the moon and into the stars like some other girls in Hogwarts-but I liked you alot." A defeated sigh escaped Ophelia's lips. "Then for a split second, just now, I saw something in your eyes that made me think you could care for me the way I do but forget it."

Tom saw there was hurt etched in his witch's features and the all too familiar sense of guilt took whatever part of his brain was responsible for feeling the emotion. One on hand, the heir of Slytherin loathed idea of marrying a witch whose blood was as tainted as a pig sty. On the other hand-he's already spent so much of life where Ophelia was a loyally consistent variable...If marriage was sharing a life with someone, then weren't he and her _already_ doing that?

"I am going to wash up and head to sleep." Ophelia's voice was distant but the hurt was hard to ignore. "Stay, leave, I don't quite care at the moment." She was halfway down the hall before she was stopped by Tom's apparating form.

Tom's slender hands immediately clasped down on Ophelia's shoulders; holding her firm in place. He kissed her lips and before he pulled away, Tom bit gently down on the witch's lip. A wisp of cinnamon, the very faintest scent of it, made itself obvious to Tom's senses.

Ophelia stepped back and with eyes wide with neither annoyance or confusion, she tried to study Tom's features only to come up with nothing. "Why did you-."

"You want to marry me?" Tom question with a hint of aggression in his. "Is that what you want?"

"Are you seriously asking me or do want to make a fool out of me?" Ophelia wasn't going to let herself be fooled.

"Yes or no." Tom stared at Ophelia much like a wolf would eye a lamb.

A deafening silence hung between the witch and wizard. Tom felt awkward knots tangle themselves all inside his stomach. In the brief moment she's left him alone, it occurred to him that through marriage one Ophelia Mae Darwin would be considered his and his alone.

Tom Marvolo Riddle found a strong comfort in that.

"Yes." Ophelia finally breathed out.

"Then I'll give that to you, Ophelia." Tom stated as he leaned in and kissed the only human he could ever truly care for.

Ophelia wrapped her arms around Tom's broad shoulders and deepened the kiss. With her arms around him, she carefully tried to maneuver their bodies a couple of steps off to the left to her bedroom. A swift yet gentle kick was all it took for the bedroom door to swing open and allowed two magic users to stumbled into the room.

Tom pulled away from Ophelia to click the door to a soft close. Ophelia made her way to the bed and laid propped up on her elbows as Tom walked and sat at the edge of her bed. The half-blooded witch watched Tom take his shoes off and undress himself down to bare skin.

Without any words needed or wanted at the moment, Tom went to undressing Ophelia and he planted stray kisses on random spots on her skin. Ophelia was stripped of every article of clothing that covered her body, small goosebumps covered her body as cold air greeted every surface.

The handsome young man straddled over the brunette and position his hard member at the wetting opening of his partner. "You miss this?" Tom asked in a low voice as he only slipped the tip of his dick into Ophelia.

"More than you can believe." Ophelia whined and she shifted under Tom. Sex wasn't something that being thrown at her left and right during her travels; she kept her legs shut due to lack of attraction to the men she'd seen abroad. It wasn't because those men were ugly or smelt funny or had terrible personalities-Ophelia was straight up not attracted to any of them.

A force of hard pressure and pleasure appeared in between Ophelia's legs and a sight of satisfaction escaped her lips just from feeling Tom inside of her. " _Tom_." She said softly, almost like a little prayer.

Tom said nothing but with a hard thrust as the pleasure from being in Ophelia started to take over him. The funny thing about sex, Tom found out after trying out some other witches, is that he felt close enough to peace when it was Ophelia he shared a bed with. If he wasn't going to have much of a soul anymore, wouldn't Tom, like all humans still needed to find peace?

Moans and little moments of calling the other name reverberated through Ophelia's bedroom and filtered through the rest of the house. It was a damn great thing the older members of the Darwin family were gone.

"Get on your stomach." Tom demanded as he pulled out of his witch. " _Now_." His body was covered in a light coat of sweat. Heat was generating between their two naked bodies and it was almost unbearable.

Ophelia did as Tom demanded and flipped over into the position he requested. A high pitched moan couldn't help but find its way out of the witched mouth as Tom wasted no time plunging himself back into Ophelia. A low yet loud moan also flowed out of Tom's mouth. Each thrust was stronger than the previous action until both reached a sweet physical relief in the form of a climax.

Tom Riddle pulled himself out of Ophelia Darwin and laid his naked body next to hers. Ophelia pulled the duvet over their bodies. Usually, most couples want to cuddle after intimacy but that wasn't the case here.

"Are you sure you want a marriage?" Tom asked as his fingers intertwined with Ophelia's. His grip was tight and possessive as he tried to take in the seriousness of what Ophelia wanted.

"Yes." Ophelia whispered back, every finger in her hand relaxed in Tom's strong hold.

Tom stared at the ceiling; conflicted. The heir of Slytherin was going to give the former Hufflepuff what she wanted though only to best of his ability...Or lack thereof that ability.


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I enjoyed writing it. Again I don't have a beta-reader so if there are any typos and errors please let know so I can fix it.

Thank you all to the readers who favorite and review this series. Nothing makes my day than seeing someone dropped a review for me. I really appreciate everyone who reads this series.

* * *

November 16, 1948

Tom's eyes narrowed. "Are we understood?" The meeting was officially over by now, but Tom wanted to be sure _everyone_ was on the same page as him.

Graham Nott nodded and agreed mindlessly. He grew up to be somewhat of a mindless and spineless man-but working under the thumb of a violent wizard will do that to a person.

Armand Dolohov knew that Lord Voldemort didn't need or want his lackies approval. Dolohov knew that Voldemort meant this as an order; Dolohov was going to follow this order to perfection as to keep his family safe.

Theo Avery and Gerald Rosier hated the news of a half-blood being anywhere near them. Much more, they hated how they would more than likely have to treat the bitch just like if not better than most pure-bloods.

Vincent Lestrange felt something that of low anger. Lestrange lusted over and over and over the half-blooded witch that was mention mere minutes ago. Now that the great Lord Voldemort had delivered his news, Lestrange knew his lust for the one and only Ophelia Darwin had to die then and there with no hope or future attempts to try and get the witch in his bed.

Abraxas Malfoy held down his tongue and only thought of everything but what the Dark Lord had announce. This, the very thought of a union between the heir of Slytherin and half-blood was against what he stood for….but there was nothing in his current power to do anything about it.

There was one emotion, one tiny yet ugly emotion that the pure-blooded men (excluding the Dark Lord, of course) experienced hardly ever in their life.

The ugly beast of envy. Who could blame them though?

Dolohov was married fresh out of Hogwarts to a witch he only spoke to once. His grandmother arranged the marriage and while Dolohov was lucky enough to later fall in love with his wife-he would have liked to pick her.

Nott's father had arrange his marriage, something about the union being more of a business merger. Imagine Nott's surprise when he found out his wife was barely seventeen on the night of their wedding. Nott cheats on his wife because he doesn't want the poor girl to resent her life anymore than she already does.

Avery had to marry because none of his brothers produced any future heirs to carry on the family blood line and name. He suggested against marrying his cousin and pleaded to marrying outside the family so he could have a better chance at producing a healthy heir- but he was ignored and his wife still isn't pregnant and probably won't be any time soon.

Rosier's mother slapped his sham of a marriage together just to spite some other pure-blooded witch. Rosier and his wife have nothing in common other than they hate their mothers and love cairn terriers.

Lestrange much like Avery was forced to marry his cousin. The advice the males in his family gave him when it came time for the wedding: 'If you're drunk enough, she'll look like whoever you want her to be.'

Malfoy's wife was picked by both his mother and father and he didn't get to meet her until a week until their 's shown Malfoy she'd rather not speak to him unless telling him what is needed around the manor.

Yet here was Tom Marvolo Riddle a fucking heir of Slytherin. Not only was _his_ blood one of the most valued blood lines in the wizarding world, he had the luxury of marrying whoever he wanted.

Well, within the context of what the Dark Lord had just announced, he had the luxury of being _**engaged**_ to whoever he wanted.

* * *

"What do you mean he asked you not tell too many people?"

"No, Margo. I am asking you not to tell anyone else."

"Do William and Zyra already know?"

"I had breakfast with them and baby today."

"Damn it!" Margo crossed her arms over her chest. "I wanted to tell them. You know what, it's fine, I am telling my husband."

"I figured."

"I will also tell Edmund, just because."

"Do not tell Edmund." Ophelia nudged her pregnant friend on the elbow gently. She would have rolled her eyes but she couldn't tell if the blonde witch was serious or not about telling Edmund the news. Flashes of Tom and Edmund fighting during sixth year skipped through her mind. "There's no reason to tell your brother."

The pregnant blonde let Ophelia's last comment flow into one ear and immediately out the other. "Hopefully, little missy is out of the womb when it comes for your march down the aisle." Margo stated in a perfect mood of bliss. "So when is the wedding date?"

Ophelia shrugged. "We haven't discussed it yet."

"Okay." Margo's mind automatically jumped to the next relatively appropriate topic. "So when will you two pop out a baby?"

 _If I don't even know my own wedding date then how would I even know when a child is supposed to be in the picture?_

"I don't know, Margo." Ophelia answered. "We have to discuss that." The brunette hadn't been thinking clearly for the past few days; it wasn't because she was particularly busy or anything. The young lady was having a harder time than she expected in grasping her currently reality was one where she was getting what she wanted from Tom Riddle...Ophelia did want a baby though.

"Does your family like him at least?" Margo asked with a hint of concern in her voice. "Surely you must know that, Pipa."

"I am sure they do." Ophelia stretched her arms out as they laid out on Margo's bed. "Tom had a meal with my family when they got back from their little weekend holiday. I had to write to Poppa as soon as it happened just so he could make it to the dinner."

Margo nodded her head, but her mind was doing a quick replay of her years in Hogwarts and Ophelia's interactions with Tom. The pregnant woman rubbed her stomach in deep thought. Ophelia seemed more likely to run from Slytherin than acknowledge him yet Tom often asked for Ophelia...Margo's half-brother got into a fight with Tom and the only common denominator they had was one half-blooded brunette in Hufflepuff...Not to mention all the times Tom and Ophelia always rode the train at the end and start of the year together.

 _Oh, you slag!_ Margo immediately pulled the pillow that allowed her rest comfortable on her back out and began to assault her best friend in the face with it. "Oh my goodness, you liar!"

"M-Margo!" Ophelia immediately tensed and tucked her hands under her body, so she wouldn't accidentally hit her pregnant friend back. "What are you on about?"

"You and Tom Riddle!" Margo gave the pillow one last good throw to her friend's face before she plopped down back on the bed and laid flat on her back. "I was rooting for you! I was rooting for you and Tom to be an item so badly in Hogwarts!" Margo huffed. "If you have any juicy secrets of how long your love affair with Tom has gone on you need to tell me now before I decide to be cross with you!" The pure-blooded witch then added. "The details better be sordid too!"

Ophelia's face was red from the abuse it had just undergone. "Love affair? You make it sound so much more dramatic than it actually is." Though if Ophelia ever wanted to tell the truth, now would have been the perfect time to do so.

 _Now or never, right? Right._

Ophelia chose never. The former Hufflepuff told more lies than she could recount when involving Tom. Some of the lies were for her sake and most of the lies were for safety of her friends. Now, especially now, the truth wasn't something Ophelia could easily allow out of her mouth.

Forget that Tom Riddle proposed to Ophelia, the truth is, a man with a fading soul is still a dangerous man

"Tsk." Margo rolled her eyes. "Fine. Don't tell me then."

The brunette witch let out a small huff of her own. _Maybe telling Margo one thing wouldn't hurt too much._

"Ever wondered where I disappeared to for a brief second at you and Peter's engagement party?" Ophelia whispered.

Margo's deep blue eyes widened up. "No, but I am wondering now."

"We-erm." Ophelia remembered that night, she remembered crying herself to sleep. _Give Margo the fairy tale version of what she is expecting...Not the truth._ "We danced for a bit in the garden before we had to part our ways for the night. We said goodbye with a brief kiss."

"Oh! Pipa!" Margo beamed up at her friend. A happiness was warming Margo up in her chest and it showed in her smile. Margo was beginning to think that maybe her visions of Ophelia and Tom were finally coming true. Her best friend was going to have a life of luxury and ease. _She deserves a life like that._ Margo's smile grew bigger.

 _You're normalizing it you know...You're taking a memory where Tom cut deep into your state of being and making it normal._ If that was Ophelia's conscience speaking, she ignored it completely.

 _I want to be married and I want a family...He's willing to give me that_. Ophelia reassured herself.

* * *

In many cases, Abraxas Malfoy did not form attachments to things. If anything, Abraxas only cared about his blood status.

With that being said, the pure-blooded wizard loved the estate he didn't inherit. Abraxas bought the manor a few months after he started to work for the Ministry; combined what he was earning with the galleons he already had stored in the bank; he was able to buy the manor in lovely Dorset straight out. It was nowhere near as huge as the Malfoy manor: it couldn't throw grand events, and it didn't have years and years and year of history painted all over it but it was perfect in its own little way.

The manor Malfoy was giving over to Lord Voldemort was two stories, made out of sturdy terracotta brick with a red roofing, equipped with eight bedrooms, six grand bathrooms and tigerwood hard floors. There was also a two story greenhouse attached to the back of the manor. The first floor of the green house contained an indoor swimming pool while the second floor contained the possibility of making a flower nursery.

Abraxas had plans for the new and unnamed manor; he wanted to raise his future children and maybe even grandchildren here.

The Malfoy manor, as grand as it was- it is still a cold and empty place….and now, he was more than likely going to bring up the next generation of Malfoys there.

"Have you been standing out here long?"

Malfoy held a sigh in as he forced himself to acknowledge the witch who came into his presence. "No. I've only arrived here two minutes ago."

Ophelia nodded. "Well, thank you for taking the time to show me around the place." She then added, "I'm sure you're very busy with work and all."

The blonde wizard said nothing and opened the heavy mahogany double doors. Judging from how close Ophelia's footsteps sounded, the half-blooded witch was walking right beside him.

"Oh, wow." Ophelia's eyes went wide with a spark of enthusiasm. Like Malfoy, she too must have seen the vast potential this manor held.

 _Years of craftsmanship is dotted all over this manor and all you can say is 'oh, wow'?_ Abraxas shot a side glance at Ophelia. He tried being civil to the witch before and his advice fell from her ears straight to the ground for her to walk all over. _Perhaps being civil was something a witch with tainted blood didn't understand._

"Excited?" Abraxas asked as he watched Ophelia peek around the first floor of the manor. His tone tense as his hands were held properly behind his back.

"Nervous too." Ophelia replied as she stepped into the parlor room and took note of how it was fully furnished with a grand piano over in the left hand corner by a window. Her footsteps were light as she treaded out of the parlor room in search of the kitchen. "New chapter in my life and all, you know?"

"I would be to." Abraxas didn't hold back his next statement. "Especially since your fiance hates the likes of witches and wizards like you."

The brunette froze in her footsteps. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Darwin." Malfoy wanted to call her a mud-blood but decided against it. Regardless of how upset he was, he still had to be careful in getting his point across.

Ophelia's pale green eyes bore deep into Abraxas' blue eyes. But no words escaped her mouth.

One magic user held the expression of stone cold confidence on their face.

One magic user held the expression of dismay on their face.

"What is that supposed to mean, Malfoy?" Ophelia felt a lump form in her throat as she tried to make sense of what Malfoy said.

Abraxas only answered the witch's question with another question. "Has it ever dawned on you that you're the only half-blood he's openly associated with?"

"Well no but-." Ophelia never got to finish her sentence.

An genuine sense of curiosity bloomed in Abraxas' mind. "Do you even know about his lineage?"

Ophelia opened her mouth only to close it shut after realizing that she didn't have the answer to Malfoy's question. There was probably a lot of things that she did know about Tom Marvolo Riddle, but at the same time, Ophelia knew there was probably a few things she could learn about the handsome wizard...She could spare the time to figure out why Tom's soul was fading from his body.

Though Ophelia wasn't sure if that was a road she was wanting to go down with Tom.

 _She has no clue who she's been dealing with this whole time...Absolutely none._ Abraxas' eyes raked over Ophelia and a small prickle of sympathy infected his system and the bitter feeling of envy tagged along with it. "Darwin, I'm going to be brutally candid with you. If you have a chance to marry whoever you want, then do it….but you also have the luxury of marrying someone you know closely."

"You don't think I know Tom closely?" Ophelia asked with sincerity in her tone.

"I think you need to answer that yourself." Abraxas headed towards the front doors in order to take his leave. Abraxas was sure Ophelia was smart enough to tour around the manor by herself. "Keep this conversation between us two. No point in bringing this up anytime soon to anyone else."

"Wait!" It was Ophelia's turn to be curious. Without the thought of possibly invading Malfoy's personal space, she placed her hands gingerly on his face. A strong electric chill shot though Ophelia's muscles as she said the Navajo spell; the only place that felt hot was her hands.

 _Extreme detachment….episodes of high bliss only to end abruptly…._ Ophelia's eyes started to tear up involuntarily. _Hate lives here…self-loathing and outward prejudice….yet...there is a small amount of hope lingering in there-it's not a good sense of hope though._

Abraxas Malfoy tried to pull away as soon as the former Hufflepuff put hands on him but he found himself unable to move. An iciness reached down into his being, to a point where goosebumps formed all over his skin.

A deep shade of gray with mixed undertones of a lighter gray erupted from Abraxas' body. Ophelia released her hands from Abraxas' face but she stayed still; she didn't have to dig deep as to why there was hate in Abraxas' soul or who that hate was directed at.

"What did you do?" There was obvious anger in Abraxas' tone. "If you placed a primitive curse on me then I promise you-."

"Have I done anything to you?" Ophelia asked with genuine curiosity in her voice. "Did I offend you while we were in Hogwarts?" Logically, there was no real and valid reason for Abraxas to feel any aversion towards Ophelia. Illogically, strong loathing did not need any real reasons for Abraxas to feel the way he did towards half-bloods and mud-bloods.

Abraxas Malfoy looked down at the witch in his presence. There were words on the tip of his tongue, eagerly waiting to come out into the world. _You don't like her but you cannot talk down to her no matter what now._

So he left. He walked right out of the manor, through the heavy double doors, and out into the chilly November day.

 _If you do go through with marrying Tom Riddle, this is the world you'll also be living in as well...Are you fine with his friends hating you for a matter that was beyond your control?_ Ophelia couldn't answer her own question. Well no, who was she kidding. She could answer her own question; she merely didn't _want_ to answer it.

With a steady sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair and gripped at the roots before letting go.

She drew out her wand from her pocket and with a lazy flick of her wrist the front doors closed before exploring the manor that was supposed to become her home.

* * *

William Zolotov replayed the announcement of one of his friend finally getting engaged in his mind. He could understand that maybe engagements in the muggle world didn't come with a big party and booze like many engagements in the (pure-blooded) wizarding word, but he wished Ophelia could have that.

 _Who would ever want to announce their engagement without their fiance present and while buttering breakfast toast?_

The sound of his child cooing brought him out of his thought for a moment. William turned to his wife and gently rubbed her back. "Yara all done eating?"

Zyra nodded she pulled the baby away from her breast and on her shoulder. "Now all she needs to do is burp."

The little baby cooed again at the sound of her mother's voice. Sleep wasn't too far behind for the Zolotov family.

"Zyra," William inched closer to his wife as they sat up on their bed. "What do you think of Pipa's engagement?"

The South African witch looked at her husband. "What do you mean what do I think about it?" She stopped rubbing the baby's back as soon as the sound of a little burp echoed out. "Like do I think Ophelia should be engaged?"

William shook his head as he reached his hands out to grab Yara from her mother. "No, I mean, do you think she is excited about it?" The Russian swayed from side to side with the baby in his arms as he sat by Zyra. "I mean, you were excited when we first engaged?"

Zyra gave her husband the dirtiest look she could muster up.

"No! I was a wreck." She punched her pillow down as she recalled how stressful being engaged to the Russian wizard was. "Your parents didn't know we were romantically involved and thought we were only co-workers at the Ministry. They asked me if I knew who your mystery fiance was!" She then added, "You left me at the mercy of Margo as soon as she found out we were starting to plan the wedding! Not to mention at the engagement party, you got too drunk, you weren't even speaking English or Russian!"

A big and boyish grin immediately painted itself on William's face. "You still married me though."

Zyra rolled her eyes and snuggled deeper into the bed. "But to answer your question, women react differently to things. You may think she seems uninterested but if Pipa didn't want to marry she'd say no to begin with."

William carefully stood up from the bed and walked towards a pale pink baby bassinet that was stationed a couple of feet away from their bed. "You know what, Zee, you're right." A sense of relief filtered into William as he placed his daughter down.

"Of course I am right." Zyra yawned. Her husband slipped back into bed with her and a peaceful silence fell upon the room for no more than five minutes.

"Is this really our life now?" William whispered as he began to fall asleep. "Wake up at five in the morning, breakfast at six. Work for me and motherhood for you then dinner at four o'clock and to bed right at seven o'clock."

A soft mumble was all Zyra could really muster up. "If you have the energy for other activities to lengthen your day be my guest."

"No," William's mind was starting to get hazy. "I like how it is. I just wanted to confirm it with you."

* * *

The first thing to grace Tom's senses was the sound of a piano playing as he walked into the manor. The second thing was the smell of cigarettes burning.

 _Of course,_ Tom thought as he walked towards the music.

Ophelia's fingers danced away on the piano keys as she played Scott Joplin's ' _Weeping Willow'_ with a quiet and focused flare. She enchanted her cigarette so it floated in the air; all Ophelia had to do when she wanted a smoke was pucker her lips and the cigarette would drift towards her.

The former Slytherin prefect took note on the glass ashtray that also floated in midair, it looked like it contained three other cigarette buds. Tom drew out his wand and with a careful turning motion, the windows of the parlor room opened. It allowed for the cold November air to come in and push the smell of Ophelia's smoking habit out.

The brunette drew her hands away from the piano and looked towards the other magic user. She threw him a weak smile. "Hello, you."

"Ophelia." Tom walked over to the piano bench and took a sit by his fiance. "I see you've wasted no time smoking here." He found Ophelia's addiction disgusting beyond measure yet, it didn't chase him away from wanting to seat close to the young lady.

"I made potato soup with bits of roasted ham and some broccoli in it in case you're hungry." Ophelia ignored Tom's comment and placed her fingers back on the piano keys. "There is also some rye bread in the cupboards if you want as well."

The heir of Slytherin never thought Ophelia Darwin was capable of cooking. It never occurred to him that she could know her way around a kitchen especially when she used to struggle so much at potions for the longest time. Wasn't certain methods used in potions pretty much the same methods used in cooking?

"How thoughtful of you." Tom would have said 'thank you' but his mind was still wrapping around the fact that Ophelia was slightly more domestic than he thought. His eyes watched intently as the half-blooded witch's fingers skirted over the piano. Tom could admit he liked how the gems in the ring he gave her (or stole for her, same difference really) would catch little glints of light as she played on.

"What are you playing now?" Tom was sincere with his question.

"Scott Joplin." Ophelia answered over the music. "Harmony Club Waltz." There was a more light hearted expression on her face at this moment in time. "The past few days, I feel like I've been trying too hard to remember something or I was in this daze."

 _You're never going to remember_. Tom thought to himself. "Yes, and?"

"And it made me feel like everything was foggy." Her fingers ran smoothly over the keys as musical note after musical note easily reverberated from the piano to around the room. "I needed some music, especially after today."

Tom arched an eyebrow at that last statement. "What is that supposed to mean? Especially after today?"

Ophelia shook her head. "Don't pay it any mind." Her lips puckered, the cigarette floated to her mouth and she took a long drag before blowing out smoke.

Immediately, the heir of Slytherin's memory took him to the little meeting he had with Death Eaters. Most of the men who sat around the table had no issue as Tom told them the news of his engagement to Ophelia.

There was one wizard who did seem more rigid and irked than usual upon hearing the announcement.

"Did Malfoy say anything…" He had to think of word that was vague enough but could still gauge a detailed enough answer. "Did he say anything disagreeable to you?" Tom's face didn't contort with any emotion, but his voice had an obvious pinch of venom.

If Malfoy revealed anything about Tom Marvolo Riddle's true ambitions to Ophelia before Tom had the chance to, who knew what she'd do with that information.

The brunette witch shook her head once more. "Nothing of real importance." Ophelia then took another drag from her cigarette before she decided that was all she needed to lead onto the next topic she wanted to address. "I do however, have a question of my own." Her fingers froze over the piano keys and the music that filled the room faded away into the air.

 _Where is this going?_ Tom nodded at the witch, a gesture to show he wanted her to go on with her question.

"Do you hate muggle born or half-blooded witches and wizards?" It hurt Ophelia having to ask Tom that but what's worse is she then lengthened her question which in a way, only enhanced the negative feeling. "Do you hate me for not being a pure-blood?...Is that why you've been so cruel to me before?"

"Why would I give you what you wanted if I hate you?" Tom stood up from the piano bench and walked out of the parlor room. "I think you'll find that is the only answer you deserve at the moment."

"Fine, don't answer that question." Ophelia walked after Tom. She wanted answers, she needed to know the basics of the man she was supposed to marry. _Now or never Ophelia. Now or never._

The brunette decided on now this time around. She pointed her wand at the floor around Tom's feet and with a quick string of words. A vine shot out from the tip of Ophelia's wand and wrapped itself tightly around the handsome man's legs before rooting itself to the floorboards.

Tom's back was still facing Ophelia but she didn't care. She preferred it that way, how else was she going to work up the courage to ask her next question if she had to look at his face?

"Ophelia," Tom warned. "You're being childish." He wasn't going to turn his head to look back at the witch, he thought it would only make it seem like he was humoring her.

The former Hufflepuff went for it. "What's wrong with your soul, Tom?"

 _What the fuck did that filthy witch just say?_

The heir of Slytherin tried to move, but the vines that locked around his feet made it impossible for him to turn around and close in on the brunette. Instead, he reached for his wand. _"Incendio!"_

Flames immediately covered the vines and when the fire died away, the vines that covered his legs now grew longer. The vines now reached and tangled themselves over Tom's torso, tightening around his chest as he breathed in and out.

 _This isn't a spell she learned from Hogwarts._ Tom looked at vines that wiggled around his body. "Ophelia!" Anger lingered in his voice _. I can't move!_

' _ **Hebi no budo'**_ or better translated to 'Snake vine' was a spell Ophelia learned during her time in Japan. The point of the spell was to safely bind and root someone where they stood. The only person who could repel the snake vine off of anyone, was whoever casted the spell. Ophelia's mouth went uncomfortably dry and her whole body felt uneasy as she walked closer to Tom's back. Under no circumstances was she going to look at his face right now; standing directly behind the handsome wizard seemed like the safer option.

"You can either tell me why your soul is so weak or I can find out!" Ophelia's voice was shaky but the volume when she spoke at Tom was loud as can be.

Tom scoffed as he ripped a vine that twined itself on his shoulder. "Try it." The vine regrew within a millisecond and now covered his side from shoulder to hand.

Words from the Navajo language fluttered out of her mouth as whisper and she slapped her hands on his face. A gasp of pain barely managed to escape from Ophelia. The former Hufflepuff felt as if the oxygen in her lungs disappeared. The coldness that took over her body wasn't that of a chill-it was more similar to being frozen near to death. Not even her hands felt warm when pressed to Tom's face.

A weak light in the form of a black halo was all to be seen emitting from Tom Riddle's body. Whatever resided in the body of the heir of Slytherin could barely be considered a soul.

 _Murder...Murder…._ That was the first word that showed itself in her mind as she latched onto what little was left of Tom's soul. The half-blooded witch dug deeper into whatever was left of Tom's soul.

 _Unremorseful….Empty, empty, empty, empty._ A foul taste formed in back of her mouth; the smell of pure rot greeted her nose soon after.

 _I can't breathe._ Ophelia's eyes widened with tears leaking from the corners. She made a mistake...In her determination to find a small center of Tom's soul, Ophelia lost focus she had on her own. _I can't fucking breathe!_

Violently, Ophelia pulled her hands away from Tom and with hardly any air in her lungs she fell straight down to the wooden floorboards of the manor.

The snake vines that covered nearly all of Tom Riddle's body withered as the witch who casted the spell was starting to fade out of consciousness. The handsome wizard spun around and without a second to spare he pointed his wand intently on Ophelia.

 _How dare she! How dare she!_

Unbridled rage unlike anything Tom felt before surged throughout his being as he looked at the crumpled witch on the floor. He had fight the urge to physically kick the half-blooded woman in his path.

"Are you happy!" Tom yelled as he heard Ophelia struggled to breathe. "This is what you wanted?" He got down on one knee and with a free hand, pushed all the hair that covered Ophelia's face out of the way.

A horrified gasp escaped Tom's mouth. "What have you done, Ophelia?!" He threw his wand down to floor and picked the witch up into his arms. The unbridled rage disappeared and left no traces on Tom.

Paranoia now kicked in.

Ophelia's lips had turned into an ugly shade of blue; her peachy tan skin suddenly turned into an uneasy shade of white; and her body emitted no warmth.

"Ophelia," Tom called her name through gritted teeth. "Ophelia, get up. Stop this nonsense!" There was a short lived minute of relief in Tom when he felt Ophelia stir a little in his arms. _She's waking up!_ He thought.

That was the opposite of what Ophelia's body did. Instead her body started to strongly convulse while Tom's arms; her eyelids fluttered rapidly; and Tom could not hear or feel if Ophelia was even breathing.

 _No, no, no, no_. Tom's eyes widened in complete and total terror. He held onto Ophelia tighter and closer to his chest as if that was supposed to stop the sudden seizure that controlled her body. _This wasn't supposed to even happen! This is not what I planned!_


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.

SORRY FOR LATE UPDATE! I didn't give up writing the series, I swear. My work schedule keeps changing on me, my sleep schedule is a mess now because of that and as a result it took me damn near forever to put another chapter out! Guys, please be patient with me. I love to write and I do want to complete this series, I just have bills to pay and other responsibilities on my plate. SORRY AGAIN FOR THE LATE UPDATE!

With all that being said-I really hope you all enjoy the chapter-I worked hard on it. If didn't enjoy the chapter, well, let me know what I could do to fix it or make it better. Thank you all to the readers who favorite and review this series. Nothing makes my day than seeing someone dropped a review for me. I really appreciate everyone who reads this series.

* * *

November 17, 1948

There is never a good time or even a convenient time for bad things to happen, but maybe one could agree that it is not better for a bad thing to happen on a day that is busy.

Yara Zolotov came down with a fever in the middle of the previous night; William and Zyra hardly got any sleep. That was when they got the news from the Elwoods.

Margot Elwood had went into labor at roughly about one in the morning; she didn't know extreme emotions could offset the whole birthing process. If Peter had to guess as to what caused the whole thing, he'd pin it on the letter they'd got in the middle of the night.

Wendy and Ben Darwin were the ones who sent a letter for the young Elwood family so late into the night. Ben took responsibility of putting pen to paper as he scrawled out what he knew and where they'd be. Wendy took responsibility of gathering spare clothing, two pillows, and a blanket together to make things more comfortable.

Gregory Darwin had to send a howler to his son and daughter-in-law as soon as he possibly could once he found the news out. He also sent another howler out to Colorado, the far Pacific, and just for good measure one to New Orleans. If there was one thing the old Gryffindor was thankful for was that he wasn't far from St. Mungo's Hospital when he got wind of Pipa's condition.

Every witch, wizard, squib, and muggle in a particular individual's life scrambled in one way or another to get where they needed to be. Which unfortunately meant they all tried to rush to the intensive care wing in St. Mungo's.

Margo had to be wheelchair bound and only could visit if a healer gave the okay to visit and only for five minutes at the most. Peter had to make sure they stuck to the instructions of the healer, for the benefit of baby.

William and Zyra took turns between keeping an eye on their own sick baby and visiting too. Yara's fever was not too worrying but witches and wizards in the infant wing wanted to monitor her just to be on the safe side.

Wendy, Ben, and Gregory Darwin stayed put in the room as friends of the younger member of their family popped in out of the intensive care wing.

Night was turning into morning and as no immediate answers made themselves present in the corridors of St. Mungo's. No one knew _exactly_ what caused the witch to go her current state of unconsciousness. Not really anyways.

"Seizures." The volume in Ben's voice could barely be considered even that of a normal. It was low, gruff, and unsteady. "Pipa's never gotten seizures before." There was a visible pause in Ben's features. "Is it because she was born prematurely?"

Wendy Darwin shook her head at her husband's words. An odd type of self-loathing took over the mother's body as she watched her only child lay still on the stretched out hospital bed. She was a nurse, a well educated and experienced nurse who had seen people of varying ages on the same hospital beds her daughter was on...And there was absolutely nothing in Wendy's ability to help her daughter...Wendy may be a damn great nurse, but a muggle nurse couldn't treat a sickness that was caused by some sort of spell.

Gregory didn't say much. His thoughts all tangled and knotted together into an ugly mess. He was slightly upset especially considering his granddaughter's husband to be was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Unlike how aurors could go about and handle things in Europe it was wonderfully different and if not stupidly complicated in the Americas.

Not just any auror could waltz up to any Native American Reservation, to a medicine man's home and investigate the magic being used on said reservation. An auror had to get approved by a tribal council (each different for every reservation) then forward the approval of selected aurors to the Magical Congress of the United States of America.

Which more or less explained why John Westing sat on an all too familiar couch in a living room of an all too familiar person. This was supposedly a business call but because it was Ruth, John knew better. He didn't bother to freshen up after a long day of working; his light blue tie was completely undone; his gray dress shirt was terribly wrinkled and there was a coffee stain somewhere on his brown slacks; who knew where John threw his jacket off to the second he walked into Ruth's home.

"Ruth," The American wizard's voice had a slight Southern drawl; the accent was stronger before he dropped out of Ilivermorny and decided to fight in the war. He almost didn't get to fight because the muggle recruiters (it was easier and the no maj military system had a lot of loopholes he could easily walk through) thought his heterochromia would somehow affect his ability to aim a rifle.

"Don't you say my name in that tone of voice." Ruth might have been older and smaller than the auror in her home but she was by no means scared of getting on his bad side. She dropped a well packed suitcase in front of the young auror, right by his feet. Her trusty leather satchel attached to her shoulder. "The walk to the portkey isn't long so stop your sulking."

"I'm not upset about the walk to the portkey, Ruth." John didn't budge from his spot on the couch. "I am upset because you taught a witch outside of your tribe the type of magic. You know the MACUSA has strict rules about that!" John shook his head not in distress but in utter annoyance. "You could have taught anyone of relatives to teach your magic to, a neighbor on the reservation even. Yet you teach it to someone visiting from England. Don't you know how illegal that is?"

"I do." Ruth admitted so carelessly. The older Navajo woman did not give any shits about what the MACUSA deemed fit about who she could and couldn't teach magic too. "But I am not the one who has to fill out all the paperwork and make sure everything is processed." She then added, "Don't you get suspended as an auror should MACUSA find out that an area you are responsible for is not complying with MACUSA mandated laws?"

John Westing sighed and weighed his options. Not for real or with any real seriousness, he knew he already lost. _At least if I go with Ruth, I can keep this as controlled as possible and if I can do that MACUSA probably won't even process this on their radar...No suspension, no investigation on me, no paperwork._

The twenty four year old wizard ran a hand through his black hair but there was some gray spotted along on the sides. John was accepting the fact that he'd be working a long night instead of enjoying his bed at home, a nice beer, and sleep.

 _Looks like_ your _twenty minute break is up, Westing._ John thought to himself as he finally got off the couch and grabbed Ruth's suitcase off the ground.

"Also," Ruth said as they made their way of her home. "I believe a wizard who knows possible voodoo and blood magic might be joining us on this whole trip."

"You're shitting me." John tightened his grip on the suitcase; he knew better than to drop a medicine woman's suitcase. He didn't want spiders summoned to his place because he pissed the old lady off... _again._ An irritated sigh was breathed out. Voodoo and blood magic was just as illegal as what Ruth had done. "Anything else I need to know?"

Ruth nodded but she never spared to look over to the auror who walked right by her. "A wizard from the far Pacific will be there."

John's gut twisted. Wizards from the far Pacific themselves were not illegal, no. They only had a habit of traveling by sea storms, tropical storms, hurricanes, and tsunamis-which again-not illegal. No, the illegal thing about wizards from the far Pacific was like Ruth's situation, they were not supposed to teach outsiders their type of magic.

"This witch isn't a future dark wizard in the making is she?" John's voice was serious, careful, and nervous. He'd already been through one war for the no majs; he couldn't imagine going to war against wizards.

"You know, John." Ruth's voice was calm but it held a small amount of anger in there. "Our magic wasn't considered illegal until MACUSA deemed it so. I would really think over why you immediately thought us teaching her our magic immediately meant she was trying to be a dark wizard."

John groaned. All he wanted was a nice cold beer...Three ice cold beers…Maybe some moonshine.

* * *

 _She keeps absolutely no records of anything!_ Tom scowled as he tore apart Ophelia's room from roof to floorboard. He searched the rest of the Darwin's family home earlier but found nothing.

 _No letters. No notes. No books! Not even a scribble of anything that implies what she knows!_

Tom Marvolo Riddle was beyond any words and beyond the normal human spectrum of emotion. He couldn't pinpoint what he was feeling or how to express it.

"Fuck!" Tom cursed as he knocked over the small writing desk in Ophelia's room. That was the last thing he had to search before he could conclude that he couldn't find anything. He assumed, considering his Ophelia was simply the way she was that the writing desk in her room would either be empty or have pictures scattered around in the drawers.

So imagine the lack of surprise the handsome wizard experienced when he found the desk was absolutely fucking empty.

"Damn it!" Tom's yell echoed through the empty house. Without any restrictions in his actions, without any thought, Tom began to kicked and throw the already scattered belongings of his fiance's room. He threw the blanket off her bed, threw pictures to the ground, kicked clothes around on the floor, and he even went as far as to punch the wooden walls of the room.

Why was this happening to him? Why was this happening now? Usually he'd find a way to blame it all on the half-blooded witch but with her lying on what very well could be her deathbed, the heir of Slytherin didn't want to do that.

He wanted to know what spell she used. Tom wanted to know where she learned it and from because that spell, whatever it was exactly, could also be of use to Tom in the soon or later future.

Yes, it seemed selfish of him and even he could see how breaking and entering into Ophelia's home while she and her family were at St. Mungo's hospital could be considered a terrible thing to do.

Tom Riddle didn't give a shit because he didn't selfishly try to find a clue as to what the spell was only for his benefit. No, he was Tom Marvolo fuckin Riddle and he was smarter than many witches and wizards alive and dead.

 _If I knew what the spell was, I could have been able to reverse it or at least make a cure for the side effects._ Tom's body was finally done ruining the room and with an intense shock of discomfort in his chest and stomach, he sank down to the floor.

As an orphan, Tom was used to the idea that he was in fact alone and sometimes, especially when he was much younger, he understood what loneliness was on an expert level. Yet as he grew older he prefered to being alone-it gave him more time to plot his plans out and made it easier to do whatever he wanted without someone constantly tagging along.

He had always been alone since day one much like he had been breathing since day one.

Yet the thought of Ophelia dying was a brand new level of loneliness that managed to awaken the sad child that Tom thought was long gone. Ophelia came into his life the same time Hogwarts did!

His mind, memories, even emotions would forever associate Ophelia and magic together for all of time!

 _If she lives_ ….Tom thought to himself he threw his wand in the air and willed the room to clean itself up. _I'll never let her travel again. A proper wife shouldn't travel the world anyway._

After all it was Ophelia's stupid want to travel and learn that put both her and Tom in this position not merely Ophelia herself; that was the only logical explanation Tom Riddle could think up anyways.

* * *

Peter kissed Margo on the top of her head as soon as the sound of a tiny voice crying filled the room. At first they were both worried that maybe their child being born early would bring complications but after only three hours of labor the newest addition of the Elwood family finally came into the world.

Autumn Rose Elwood was born at ten forty-five in the morning, coming out at six pounds and three ounces, and the cutest nose Peter had ever seen.

Tears welled up in Margo's eyes. "She looks just like you." The blonde witch pressed her lips gently on her daughter's tiny forehead, the scent of a new infant took over Margo's senses. "Oh, Peter, look at her. Isn't she perfect?"

He agreed without even a second thought. "I bet she'll have your eyes."

A happy silence filtered through the room until it was no longer a happy silence. Their baby had been born way before the expected due date and the only reason they had made it to the hospital so early was due to Ophelia.

"Should we bring Autumn to meet Aunty Pipa?"

Margo shook her head, "I don't know if the healers would even let us."

"I'll go ask Will and Zyra if they want see to Autumn then. I think the healers told them Yara was stable and her fever's gone down. " Peter carefully drew himself away from his little family. "I won't be gone long."

Peter slipped out the room quietly and began in his search for William and Zyra. If he was correct, the intensive care for infants wasn't too far from the delivery ward. He was lucky though, William spotted him first.

"Congrats my friend." William walked over to the new father, two unlit cigars in his hands and a small grin. "I'm sure your daughter is healthy and beautiful." The Russian put one cigar in his mouth and handed one to Peter before lighting it. "Cheers, mate." There was a third cigar hidden in the pockets of William's trousers but it was reserved for Ophelia...William had a childish hope that she'd be awake by now, cured and fine as ever.

That wasn't the case at the moment. A quick flash of black hair peeked off to the side of William's and Peter's peripheral vision. Broad enough shoulders, stiff and straight posture and an overall tall figure.

To the two former Hufflepuff quidditch players, that flash of black hair could have only been one person.

"Riddle!" William called out to as he walked towards the figure. "Have a cigar with-." William's mouth immediately shut securely to a close and a confused expression appeared over his face. "Uh, hello."

Peter quickly walked over to see why William and Tom were frozen in an awkward tension. "Riddle, care to celebrate with-." Peter's voice disappeared the second he caught a better look at the black hair man. "You're not Riddle."

Much to the British and Russian wizards surprise the new man stranger in the presence spoke with an accent they had never heard before.

"No, John Westing." The slight Southern drawl was ever so present. He offered a hand out as a way of greeting the new wizards. "But whatever you are celebrating, I'm all in for it."

The Russian wizard promptly offered Westing a cigar. "Nice to meet your acquaintance."

 _What is an American wizard doing all the way out here?_ Peter shook Westing's hand right after William did. "So what brings you here from across the pond?"

John took a long drag from the rich and savory cigar. "Work."

* * *

"I'm here! I'm here! I'm right here!"

Ophelia's eyes were aching, red from tears and being unable to sleep. She was over crying about the mess she landed herself in and was over being trapped in whatever realm of spirituality she was in.

At first she thought she was a ghost but at least if she was a ghost then the people around her would've been able to see her (like Nearly Headless Nick or the Fat Friar) but no one saw her….Nor could they hear her.

What clued Ophelia into the fact she wasn't dead and therefore could not be a ghost was that healer were still tending the body she should have still been in. She would also catch glimpses of her mother checking her pulse and temperature from time to time.

So here was a half-blooded witch in what could be thought as a spirit in a weird sub-pocket of possible death or purgatory having a literal out of body experience in which no could see or hear her. It was an excruciating mental and emotional wait-Ophelia was either going to die or she was going to get back into her empty shell of a body and live!

There were no in between options and staring at lifeless body that she was supposed to be in was starting to root strong feelings of doubt. All she could at the moment was float aimlessly close to the ceiling in her little hospital room and watch as people filtered in and out.

She overheard the conversation of her family and friends just fine. Margo went into labor as soon as she got the news; Zyra and William's baby was sick with a fever; and no one was able to get a hold of Tom since Ophelia's physical body was administered into St. Mungo's.

"Is there a way to remove her from this place?" A wizard from New Orleans asked as he lit and place deep purple candles in each corner of the room; then he reached into his briefcase and took out a little sack filled with what looked like black salt and sprinkled it by the window and by the door.

Raymond Bellevue had been the wizard to take Ophelia under his wing during her stay in Louisiana. No could tell it by looking at him, but the wizard was at least a hundred and three years old. Raymond had healthy carob skin without any wrinkles or spots anywhere to be found on him (maybe a scar or three from a whip to the back but he didn't like to revisit that memory); pearly white teeth and dimples to match his smile; and every hair on his head was a vibrant and beautiful shade of midnight blue without any white or grey hair in sight.

"I don't know if the staff here will let us." Kane answered with a look of concern engraved on his face. He placed what looked a shell that was shaved to look like hook on the center of the former Hufflepuff's still body before throwing it up into the air.

A gasp of surprise weaseled its way out of Ophelia when the hook Kane threw up latched itself into her spirit form; right where her heart was supposed to be. A strong forced pulled Ophelia down to the ground until her feet were planted onto the floor boards...Not that anyone could see that anyhow but she was relieved that she wasn't floating anymore. Being rooted to ground felt normal, natural, and it gave her a small bit of hope.

"Oh , thank Merlin." Ophelia breathed out. Her statement of appreciation fell on deaf ears.

"Is that a good sign?" Ben Darwin asked as the hook stayed fixed in mid-air.

"It means a spirit is here, but we don't know if it is hers or not just yet." Kane looked back over to Raymond. "May I ask what the black powder is for?"

"Keeps demons who may want to take the child's body out." Raymond, for good measure, then sprinkled some of the black powder on the foot of Ophelia's bed.

Ruth went around the room, a bundle made of specific herbs and various other plants and bit of hair snipped straight from Wendy Darwin's scalp. At first no scent filtered through the room, then slowly the obvious smell of lilies clung in the air the way black smoke lingered against a winter sky.

"That's a good sign right?" Wendy asked with hope rising in her voice as she breathed in the scent of lilies. "It's not a rotting smell but a fresh smell so that has to be a good sign right?"

Ben bit down on his tongue and shook his head from side to side. Wendy's completely muggle upbringing wasn't the same as Ben's childhood. Ben may have been born a squib but Gregory Darwin made sure his son had a rather wild and magical experience growing up...Wendy didn't think or ever thought about meaning behind flowers.

"Lilies are flowers that are associated with death or funerals," Poppa sighed as he looked down at the floor. He couldn't bring himself to look at his grandchild...He didn't want to see Ophelia like that.

"I'm going to die?" Ophelia asked as she felt a terrible chill crash down on her. It was pointless because no one could even hear the question to answer it. Yet, due to her stupor all Ophelia merely repeated the question. "Am I going to die?"

Ruth put the bundle of sage and other plants out and pressed her hands on Ophelia's motionless body. First the Navajo woman put a hand on Ophelia's face; Ruth had her eyes closed with immense focus. Words began to flow out of Ruth's mouth; it was a chant that was being repeated over and over and over in Navajo.

A hot and tingling crawled all over Ophelia's spirit form as soon as Ruth began to chant. While her physical body remained still; Ophelia's spirit form began to wince in discomfort. The little hook attached to her spirit followed as she hunched forward in pain.

Kane looked over to the hook as it swayed back and forth in midair by itself. "This is a good sign," he whispered to himself.

Ruth then moved her hands away from Ophelia's face before placing her hands flat on the center of the younger witch's chest. The medicine woman chanted in Navajo over and over once more.

Ophelia felt something as she watched Ruth suddenly ball her hands into fists and pulled violently away from the still body. The British witch couldn't help but slowly claw and scratch at her chest as Ruth chant away.

"Tsk." The Navajo woman took her hands away from the unconscious young lady that laid before her. "I've told you not to forget your center."

"Can you fix her?" Wendy barked out taking a small step toward Ruth only to step back when Ben pulled her arm away from the medicine woman.

With a slightly annoyed expression, Ruth dug into her leather satchel and pulled out a mason jar filled with a tan looking liquid. "Ophelia's soul is still on this realm, so yes, I might be able to fix her as you say. However, it is up to Ophelia to take the journey to come back to her physical body." Ruth uncapped the mason jar and let out a rather gruff sigh; peyote tea was nothing like apple juice. "You though this was bad before? It'll taste worse once you are back in a body."

"Lucky me…" Ophelia watched as Ruth poured peyote tea gingerly into the unconscious body. Her pale green eyes widened when she saw one of the older wizards reach their hand towards her.

Kane walked over to the hook that he was now sure latched onto the young witch's soul. With a humming sound smoothly running from his mouth, Kane snatched the hook out of the air and tucked it into the pocket of his pants. "Ophelia's here with us right now."

Raymond quickly got out some more black powder out and with a strong and steady whistle, he sprinkled the black powder around where the hook was lingered in the air. "Let no ill will find you as you journey into the beyond."

Almost in an instant Ben, Wendy, and Poppa looked to where the hook had once been. Almost all three of them were about to spout out questions only to be silenced by Ruth.

There was only one fourth of peyote tea left in mason jar Ruth held and she went ahead and poured what remained out in front of where she assumed Ophelia's spirit was hovering about. "Safe travels, see you soon."

Ophelia opened to her mouth to speak, a gut feeling had told her maybe that if she were to say something now, everyone would be able to hear her. She didn't get to speak though, she didn't process what she wanted to say fast enough.

Everything melted into a dizzy blur as Ophelia felt something pull her soul up and away from everything familiar.

A new sense of ugly, deep, and primal terror dawned on Ophelia as she realized that if she didn't succeed in this 'adventure' back to her body-she'd be just as good as dead.

* * *

Tom Riddle stood outside of St. Mungo's. That distinct pain in his chest from seeing Ophelia unresponsive grew sharper in the time he distanced himself from it all.

 _Do not go to her…._ He repeated in his mind. _Do not see her...Not until you've been told she is alive and well._

A thought hit Tom and it him hard. A thought hit Tom harder and more violently than a train could hit him.

Ophelia could die.

 _No._ Tom focused hard on simply being in denial that death could be an outcome at the end of the situation.

That's it-the end. Gone forever. No more and never again. Departed. Passed one. In a 'better place'. DEAD.

 _No. No, no, no, no!_

Tom looked at St. Mungo's with a quiet contempt. Someone, just someone better heal Ophelia Mae Darwin... Even though Tom could maybe possibly start to understand that he was the one who put her in St. Mungo's in the first place-there would be hell to pay should the witches and wizards fail to revive Ophelia.

Lord Voldemort would be sure of it.


	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.

First of all, I am sorry for the unbelievably late update for the series. Long story short, I was unhappy the fist 3 times I wrote this chapter and the fourth and final time I wrote it, I liked it much better. Sorry to all you might have been waiting. There is a sloppy poem in this chapter so let's just go along with it-I know it is corny and all that but oh well. If there are any errors in this chapter let me know and I will try to fix it. I want to also imply that Ophelia does not believe that the visions she sees during her peyote trip; but she does believe that Tom has been horrible and truly horrible.

Please leave a review if you can, I would appreciate any input good, bad, or in between. Thank you for reading this series!

* * *

November 24, 1948

"What do you mean they gave her poison?"

"According to my inside source in St. Mungo's some witch from America gave her poison."

Tom looked with disbelief at Nott. Either the idiot didn't understand the information relayed to him by one of the healers assigned to Ophelia or Nott had overheard a rumour chatted about through the halls of St. Mungo's and decided that that was good enough instead of talking to the healers.

Or could it all be chalked up to primitive magic?

Without missing a beat, Avery soon added to the conversation. "I heard they performed an exorcism because they think there is a demon trying to take Darwin over."

Nope, for sure, the wizards around the heir of Slytherin were merely repeating juicy gossip that had been fluttering around.

Malfoy cleared his throat and decided to enter in the conversation before anyone could make Lord Voldemort's mood go from irritable to down right on a rampage. "Perhaps, my Lord, take this as a sign to check on Miss Darwin's progress?" Abraxas was gracefully able to leave out the part of a rumour he himself heard as well; something about an American auror being posted by Ophelia's bedside.

Tom only shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I will not go into that damned place until I get a notice that she is somewhat responsive." He was tired; he spent a good portion of the past few days hiding any horcruxes in his possession. "Any news bubbling around in the ministry?"

"Yes." Rosier answered without hesitation. "Apparently, the ministry is taking steps to make sure that muggle born students have more resources in order to focus more on the magical education."

"Oh, of course." Tom scoffed. There was a bitterness in his voice as he thought with envy how such a program would have helped him out much more with his Hogwart experience. "Give those with dirty blood all the handouts possible and forget about the purebloods who created the foundations of the ministry and that of Hogwarts."

"I'd rather a program where muggle born witches and wizards have to register into a program where a congress of purebloods decide if they are even worthy to practice magic or not." Lestrange added in.

Tom looked over the Lestrange, there was a dark flicker of interest in his eyes. "Lestrange, that must be the smartest thing you've ever said." The heir of Slytherin relaxed and with a cold and empty smile have a small nod of approval. "Please, continue with that thought." Tom had every intention of utilizing that very idea should he ever get the chance to use in the future.

* * *

Ophelia knew when she was on a drug induced trip or at the very least her physical body knew. Her palms would sweat profusely, sometimes the back of her teeth would grind together, and as the drugs left her system goosebumps perked all over her skin. She knew the high would end, her body had the organs to process the drugs.

Being on a drug induced trip while detached from a physical body felt like high she couldn't come off of.

One minute she was a spec in the galaxy, a shinning star in the sky; there was a warm rush pulsing through her. Then in the next minute that comfortable warmth turn into an unbearable heat as Ophelia plummeted from the sky; strings of curses words mumbled their way out of the young witch's mouth as she fell, her arms violently flailed about as if there was an invisible rope for her to grab onto.

Even though Ophelia wasn't attached to her physical body, as she landed on her back into the hard ground the memory of pain inched all over her skin and she couldn't breath. All she could see was white, everywhere was just white nothingness.

" _Get up, get up, get up, get up."_ A voice echoed in the wind. It was soft, easy, light. _"You have to get up."_

Again, an unknown force pulled Ophelia's body off the ground and positioned her properly on her feet.

" _I'm over here…."_ The voice echoed. " _Here….here...here...here."_

" _Where?_ " Ophelia broke out into a run without a second thought and as she ran, odd colors of purple, black and blue began to swirl in the background around her. _"Where is 'here.'?"_

The storm of colors that swirled in the background crashed into Ophelia and swept her off to a different part of the realm what was assumed to be a drug induced limbo.

" _Stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop!_ " Ophelia screamed as loudly as she could at the storm of colors that tossed her around finally dropped her down into the dorm room of Hufflepuff house.

The usual and familiar things Ophelia had remembered about her old dorm room were all gone. Not one bed, not even the windows were there-she could only tell it was the Hufflepuff girl's dorm room due to the canary yellow and black flags that hung from the ceiling.

" _..I'll cut my soul and place them into things_

 _What do you say to a ring?..._

 _How about I shed everything humanly and external…_

 _Only to hide it in a journal?..._

 _Tell me what you think….Since you'll be my last link…_

 _I hope you know, if I could, I'd infect you with everything toxic…_

 _Then you'd be good enough for my family's locket..."_

This wasn't the same voice the half-blooded witch heard earlier. Unlike the first voice this one was deeper and menacing. Ophelia turned around and around trying to find the source of the voice but there was no one but her in the room.

" _...In sacred vaults that are kept shut_

 _I will store what is left of me in a cup…_

 _...Don't forget that crown, my dear_

 _Remember it with every tear…_

Chills crawled all over Ophelia's skin as the voice dragged on. It didn't sound completely human, whatever the voice's origins was it didn't matter. It was demonic, twisted, evil.

" _I have to get out of here."_ Ophelia whispered as she dropped down on her knees and began to claw at the floorboards.

" _...I need another soul to take…_

 _For that is the only way to please the snake…"_

A low hissing sound now entered into the room as the deep voice's impromptu poem ended; Ophelia tensed up as the hissing came closer and closer to her; fear bubbled up angrily inside of her as the source of the hissing was now right beside her left ear.

The brunette was expecting a heavy, rough, scaled tail to slither over her shoulder but to her surprise, Ophelia instead felt fingers tangle themselves with methodical familiarity into her hair. Ophelia fixed her pale green eyes down onto the floor; what _ **would**_ she see if she looked up? No way could a voice so sinister belong to a person-it had to be something else.

" _You've been gone long enough…"_ The voice managed to manifest a body for itself and now it knelt beside her in all too familiar and even possessive manner.

" _Go away."_ Ophelia muttered as she inched away from the figure.

" _I've remodeled the garden like you said...yellow flowers as far as the eyes can see…"_ This entity began to rubbed Ophelia's back gently in soothing circles with one hand and used its free hand over Ophelia's left hand on the floor board.

" _What fucking garden?"_ Ophelia felt her face contort with confusion when she saw the hand next hers look too much like a human male's hand.

" _Ophelia...come home, it isn't natural for a wife to be so far away from her husband."_

Only one wizard immediately came to her mind and without thinking she looked up; hoping to see if this menacing entity was who she thought of.

She never got to see the face of whatever recited that odd poem with nonsense about rings and snakes in it-a flash of blinding light was the only thing to greet her sight. This time, with no surprise on the invisible force intervene once again. What the invisible force was about to do however, was give Ophelia Mae Darwin a rude awakening.

She saw white all over again; snow covered everything around her. " _I know this place."_ There was relief in her statement as Ophelia walked deeper into the Forbidden Forest. Her eyes scanned the surrounding areas around; she saw a silhouette of a man roughly ten yards away. She wasn't alone! Ophelia took off running towards the figure.

" _ **Crucio!"**_

" _Wait...is that…?"_ Ophelia stopped running toward the figure as soon as she began to recognize the person from the back. _"Tom?"_ The half-blooded witch walked to the wizard she was all too familiar with. The brunette wondered why Tom was dressed in his old Hogwarts uniform, but she was more curious as to what he was looking down at in the snow. _"What are you-?"_

" _ **Crucio!...Crucio!...Crucio!"**_

Ophelia screamed bloody murder at the sight. Her physical body from her sixth year of Hogwarts laid in the snow. She didn't feel any pain in her spirit but that sight stuck absolute terror straight to her heart. Ophelia raised a hand to attack Tom for what he had done but it was useless-her hand went right through Tom. _"NO! NO!"_

" _ **You make me sick...I trusted you!"**_ The Slytherin prefect yelled at the unconscious witch in the snow while her soul watched the whole ordeal with absolute horror in her eyes. _**"I hate you so much sometimes...Ophelia...But let's face it: you're mine."**_

" _Shut up! Tom! Stop this please! Just shut up!"_ A sense of violation crept on Ophelia as she saw this version of Tom place an oddly sweet kiss on the body that laid on the snow. " _Stop it please!"_

" _What a monster…"_ The soft and unthreatening voice from the start of this peyote sponsored trip advised.

" _Why am I seeing this! "_ Ophelia croaked out. " _I don't want to see this! Tom...He isn't perfect but…"_ The former Hufflepuff could not bring herself to finish her sentence. She saw Tom use an Unforgivable Curse on her. " _Know what,_ " Ophelia tried to justify everything. " _No. This is a drug included trip. Remember? Peyote tea, spirit out of body experience….This isn't real. It's all in your head."_

It was all in Ophelia's head, so to speak. Clouded with confusion, greatly tucked away in a deep and unknown corner of the witch's mind through the use of powerful magic.

" _You poor thing…_ " There was remorse, sympathy, and pain from the gentle voice.

" _ **Obliviate."**_

" _Is that it?_ " Ophelia asked the voice as everything around her started to spin faster and faster until it was a blur and nothing could be identified. She wanted that be it...She wanted that to be the worst of it.

" _See for yourself…_ " Was all that was echoed out before everything stopped spinning.

All Ophelia could do was watch as a spirit as her past self went through the notions that would eventually leave those small moments of uncertainty, hazeyness, and even loud static over her memories. This time, the scene that played out before Ophelia started off with seeing an extension of herself arguing with Tom.

" _ **...Tom, we are not doing this. For Christ's sakes, Riddle! We are adults now!"**_

 _ **"I tried….with you!..."**_

The spirit that was Ophelia watched Tom carefully, his mouth was moving but the she was only hearing some of his words. Whatever else Tom said that Ophelia was unable to hear properly sounded like a scratched record being played on repeat.

" _ **...It's about wanting to use you!"**_

Now, she watched as Tom had pushed her physical body up against an alleyway wall. She watched as the handsome man pointed his wand at the base of her physical body's form.

" _ **Imperio."**_

" _This isn't real. This isn't real….It's all in your head, Ophelia._ " The half-blooded witch repeated to herself as everything restarted again. She predicted the invisible force that pulled her body along and the changing of scenery.

A man blurred out in tones of grey and white with no face stood in front of Tom on what looked like the caboose deck of a train.

Ophelia didn't get a strange feeling or any other negative feelings from the blurry outline of a man. What did cause her to have an ugly feeling in her gut was how Tom pointed his wand at the man.

" _Why is your wand up?"_ Ophelia put herself in between Tom and the unknown man. A small hope in her chest tricked her into thinking maybe her words could reach Tom. _"Put it away."_

A dark and rather malignant glaze coated over Tom's eyes so much to a point where a foul shade of red took over his features. So much so it made Tom Marvolo Riddle look repugnant.

" _Tom._ " Ophelia warned again. " _Put the wand away!"_

" _ **Avada Kedavra!"**_

Pale green eyes widened in shock as a green light shot from Tom's wand straight through Ophelia's chest and damaged the blurred man that was painted grey and white.

" _Why did you do that?"_

Something snapped inside Ophelia. It wasn't her sanity, her integrity, or even her mental or emotional standard-just _something_ beyond words broke inside her soul. These revelations about what she had been through cut deep and burned into her psyche.

" _I love him…_ " Ophelia said as she rubbed her hands on her throat a bit too hard. _"I loved him and for what!"_ Hysterical sounds of both laughter and crying raked through the pretty brunette as she crumpled down to the floor. To the half-blooded witch, this might have been all a bad trip from peyote, but that did not lessen the impact of feeling like she had been murdered by someone she loved. _"There is no trust, patience, sincerity,nothing at all with him!_ "

Ophelia ended up on the ground, her hands tightly wrapped around her body as she felt like she had been violated in every sense of that matter.

" _You cannot change him_ " The soft voice repeated as it caused Ophelia's crushed spirit to be lifted from the ground and allowed her to float towards a extremely healthy looking willow tree, and placed onto one of the many branches. _"You cannot change him."_

Ophelia had too much mixed emotions for her to even describe. _"I never tried to...not actively anyways. I was willing to take Tom as he was."_ Without thinking, Ophelia climbed higher into the willow tree. She felt vulnerable and maybe if she retreated higher into the tree, a small part of her would have felt safe.

" _Is that what hurts you?"_ The willow tree asked. _"That you loved him for what he is and yet he can't bring himself to love you without inflicting pain on you?_

That right there was the fucking ugliest truth Ophelia ever had to deal with; she didn't answer as she continued to climb up and up on the willow tree. Her silence only was enough of an answer though.

" _What will you do then?_ " The willow tree asked. _"What will you do if you had another chance?"_

Ophelia stopped climbing the tree, she let the question marinate in thought for at least two minutes before answering. _"For Tom? Nothing. You're right, I cannot change him, I never tried and I never will."_ A surge of anger, pettiness, and self-realization boiled dangerously inside Ophelia now. " _The only person I am able to change is my own bloody self."_

A series of loud 'cracks' echoed out and around tree; Ophelia found herself falling down the willow tree and every branch she tried to grab to prevent herself from falling only snapped like a measly twig the send her palm scraped against it. Within seconds Ophelia felt water all over her, dragging and pulling her down into its unknown depths.

She opened her mouth to scream, only for a distorted sound to bubble out through the water particles.

Everything faded to black as a rush of pain rooted itself deep into where her (physical) heart should have been.

* * *

John Westing looked up, his pen frozen in the middle of a file report; the look of sleep depravity apparent all over him was quickly replaced with a look of surprise as the bed next to him shook with sudden life and movement.

"Ruth!" The Southern born wizard hissed as he tried to inch the chair he sat on away from the bed while still trying to hold onto his file report. "RUTH!" With a blue eye and a brown eye, John watched with mixed fascination and concern as he saw the once unconscious body of a witch reanimated in such a gawky manner. From the garbled sound that echoed out loudly, John could tell the young woman was struggling to breathe.

"Fuckin' shit." The American auror groaned as he threw his papers down to the ground and rushed to the side of a stranger's bedside. John was shocked to see that the witch's eyes were wide open and alert; a strange look of relief and pain swirled in her eyes. John helped the witch to sit up on the bed and leaned her body and tried to get her body to go as low as possible over the side of the hospital bed. As soon as John had the witch propped up the way he wanted; he placed multiple back blows along the scapula of the witch's body. A rush of clear liquid flowed rapidly out of the brunette's mouth by the time John had struck her by what felt like the hundredth time.

Immediately, John removed his hands from the witch's back, placed them into the long brown locks on her head, and used his hands to hold her hair out of her face so she could vomit out water in relative peace. Somewhere in all this, the witch was able to sneak a hand over to John Westing's shoulder. She clutched unto him tightly as obvious discomfort was written all over on her face.

"Hey! I need some help in here!" John called out as he tried to steady the witch from toppling over.

Harsh coughs shuddered through the witch's body as the vomiting came to a stop. She took a deep breath in but a swallow exhale followed after. When she finally got her breathing to steady pace; the witch ever so slightly looked over to see the face of the stranger who had helped her.

At first, she did think it was Tom Marvolo Riddle. Same shade of dark hair, the strong jaw line, and to an extent this stranger had a similar expression on his face that her Tom almost always had. A small yelp escaped her lips when she see upon closer inspection that this stranger was definitely not Tom.

"Woah, woah." The American auror didn't fight to keep the witch in his hold as she pulled away from him; he took a step back as he wanted to give her space. "No need to be scared, I'm not going to hurt you."

The witch's pale green eyes scanned the room; looking for familiar faces that were simply not present. Her heart sank at the lack of her family or friends.

The male wizard in the room caught the look of hurt in the brunette's eyes. "I'm John Westing by the way, I'm a friend of Ruth. I came with her when you were initially admitted into this hospital." John offered a hand out for the witch to shake but he wasn't going to be offended if she didn't return the gesture. Still, he held his hand out.

In a delicate movement and with a soft grip, the witch took the wizard's hand. "Ophelia Darwin."

"Ophelia, nice to officially met you now that you seem well." John shot a look towards the door; it didn't seem like help would becoming to his aid. He looked down on the floor and saw his file reports had been messed up from the vomit the brunette just spewed out moments ago; even though he could just 'magic' the mess away...John didn't particularly want to deal with paperwork at the moment. "I'm sure a nurse or a doctor or something will be here for you soon."

"That's great." Ophelia stopped to take a deep and slow breath in and out. A terrible sore feeling ached in her throat as she tried say more that two words at time. "I would like to go home now though."

John scratched the back of his head and studied the witch in front of him; he wasn't sure she knew where exactly what was going on. "Look, Ophel-." He paused and corrected himself; wasn't it formal for strangers in Motherland England to refer to each other by their last names? "Darwin, do you know where you are?"

"St. Mungo's." Ophelia staggered out of bed clumsily as she headed towards the little bathroom facility of her hospital room. "I was admitted in a couple days ago." She closed the door and locked it. Ophelia noticed how there was a bag hung up on a hook of the bathroom wall, much to her relief, there was a navy blue pan collar dress with a match wide brim boater hat along with fresh undergarments, lotion, a comb, and body soap.

John turned his attention back to the chair he'd sat on earlier; pointed his wand at the mess of papers and clear vomit that decorated the floor and waved his about in the air. _"Scourgify."_ He was not going to force conversation onto someone who had locked themselves in a lavatory in order to freshen up.

Cold water drummed on Ophelia's skin; John held a pen steady as he went back to tending to report files.

Mister Westing was trying to adjust his report in a way where Ruth, Kane, and even Raymond were not written in a way though could incite them getting investigated by the MACUSA. He also needed phrase it in a way where the use of unauthorized magic practices were not associated with his report.

Miss Darwin stood in the shower, goosebumps all over her skin. There was a strong rage growing inside her. It was nonexistent at first but as the water rolled all over her, slowly but surely as Ophelia's mind cleared she was livid. She looked down at her left hand and felt the ugly feeling of disgust towards the beautiful engagement ring. Then there was an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that was unrelated to the ring on her finger.

 _Him…_.Ophelia thought with tears trying to burn her eyes so they could spill all over her face. _No._

John Westing flinched at the sound of the bathroom door being kicked open and in an instant a a slender and slightly manicured hand grabbed the file reports out of his hand and chucked it down to the ground.

"Where is my wand?"

The American wizard carefully analyzed witch in front of him. She looked like she was aware but at the same time, John could tell there was something more emotionally festering inside her. "I wouldn't know, I wasn't here when you were admitted in. Maybe the nurses who checked you in might have that held for you in a patient inventory?"

Ophelia's pale green eyes narrowed at the handsome face in front of her. She didn't want to stay a moment longer. "No." The brunette adjusted the hat on her head as she readied to leave St. Mungo's right then and there….Yet she didn't want to be left completely alone at the moment.

"John?" Ophelia called out; she would have referred to him by his last name but she was sure Americans tended to greet and speak to each other on a first name basis. "Ever been to Greenwich Park?"

John bit the inside of his left cheek before slightly nodding his head. He supposed he could afford an afternoon out.

* * *

A loud bang echoed throughout the little study Tom Riddle locked himself. He turned to the window to see a barn owl eagerly tapping on the glass, a letter in its mouth. The official wax seal of St. Mungo's present on the envelope.

Tom threw himself out of his chair, rushed to the window, he yanked the window opened and much like a greedy child he pulled the letter out of the owl's mouth.

"A howler." Tom commented to no one in particular as the owl quickly flew away. He held the letter in his hands; there was a metaphorical weight on his shoulders weighing in on Tom as he wondered if this howler contained good news or bad news.

 _Now or never, right?_ He tore the letter open.

" **Tom Riddle, good afternoon. This letter is in regards to Ophelia Darwin. We are quite happy to announce that she is awake."**

A sigh of happiness echoed out of Tom's lips. There was a small voice in his head that went: _'I didn't kill her.'_

" **Unfortunately, we are terribly sorry to announce that Miss Darwin has gone missing moments before a healer went in to see her progress during a routine check up."**

"What the bloody fucking hell?!" Tom yelled with all sense of decorum gone. The books on the shelves that surrounded his study all fell to the ground with a loud thud. How did the healers at St. Mungo's lose a whole damn person? No way in hell could the witches and wizards there be so incompetent to lose a patient in their care!

Tom rushed to get on a his coat; he grabbed two wands on his down to the chimney. He figured the floo system would get him from Dorset to London efficiently.

Green flames enveloped over Tom for no more than a brief minute. There was a strong sense of authority as Tom stepped along to the room that he saw the healers admit Ophelia in,

To his surprise, the room wasn't as empty as he was expecting.

"Excuse me," Wendy Darwin was teary eyed and still in her own nurse uniform from leaving the muggle hospital she worked at. "But what do you mean you haven't found anywhere in the facility?"

A healer with short and silver hair answered back with a rather bored expression. "This whole area has been searched from top to bottom and there has been no sign of her or the gentleman who was in the room with her."

"Excuse me." Tom's voice cut through over whatever rebuttal Ophelia's muggle of a mother was going to say. They left _his_ fiance alone in a room with a stranger he didn't know about. "But what gentleman was left with an unconscious female without any supervision?"

"Oh, look." Poppa leaned over to whisper to Raymond. "This man doesn't check on her at all while she sick but the second he hears news she is alright, he comes to collect her."

A low scoff escaped Raymond's lips as he shook his head. "My great, great niece married a man like that once. That marriage didn't last long thank the Lord."

"Gregory, please." Tom kept his voice light and friendly. "At least I came now, that must count for something."

The older wizard opened his mouth to speak but was cut of by his own son.

"Dad, Tom, please." Ben held tight onto his wife hand as he tried to keep his shit together. His only child was missing after being in a coma; he hadn't slept well or eaten well; his wife had been a sad mess for nearly a week. This wasn't about some pretty boy Slytherin and a grouchy old Gryffindor. "Now really isn't the time for this. At all."

Even if Ophelia's father did have a point-Tom didn't care for taking orders (direct or suggested) from a squib.

"Have you tried any spells to locate her at least?" Tom turned his attention to the healer with silver hair.

"Yes, we have." The healer answered carefully. "But it's not like we can _'Accio'_ her back here."

"Then you're not doing the spells right." Tom replied firmly. He recognized the healer that stood before him; she was Nott's mistress. Nott even brought the witch to some of their pureblood parties-Nina Di' Rizzo was her name _. This is Nott's inside source._ While Tom didn't want to seem like a complete arse in front of his in-laws and others in company, he would not stand for how casually a damn mistress spoke to him. As if he was common. "You seem like a very competent witch, why don't you try again."

"It's pointless." Ruth commented as she finally looked away from the window and straight through Tom Riddle. She understood right in an instant that there was something not right about him. "Ophelia is more than likely with Mister Westing, he has a rather unique ward on him that prevents him from being found. So if she is with him, she will not be found."

Tom found out of everyone in this room, he disliked the Native American witch. There was no doubt in the heir of Slytherin's mind that Ruth was the one who had taught Ophelia the spell he knew nothing about.

* * *

John Westing sat with his back perfectly relaxed against the sturdy trunk of an oak tree; there were a couple times he nearly fell asleep due to the subtle November breeze that glided through Greenwich Park.

Ophelia Darwin sat close to the American wizard she had only met hours ago; granted her body wasn't at complete ease but it had more to do with being comatose for a few days than it did being in John's company. She hummed a songs that belonged to Ella Fitzgerald and Dean Martin to as she tried to push the memory of dreams and her feelings of helplessness away.

She didn't feel quite so livid any more...More sad, like she was grieving a part of either herself. that she lost. It was hard….Ophelia couldn't place a distinctive memory of magic without somehow adding a trace of Tom to it.

Ophelia now awake, now aware, knew simply and with no more false hope that Tom Marvolo Riddle was not meant for life as a married man. Not her-hell, maybe not another person but more than likely to his own ideals or sense of ego and self worth.

A loud bang echoed through the air; a faulty car engine had given out not far at all from the two magic users and its sound violent cracked keenly out much to the dismay of their hearing.

Without meaning to, his right hand would skirt over to the left side of his chest just to make sure that an old, cracked, and dented pocket watch was still in his possession. Instinctively, with his free hand, he also placed a rough and calloused grip completely over Ophelia's skinny and unsuspecting hands.

"John?" Ophelia had an obvious look of concern at how tight the wizard had grabbed her; it was almost he was holding onto her to make sure he was rooted in the moment they were in. "Mister Westing, are you alright?" Ophelia noted how John Westing held his breath judging by the sudden lack of the rise and fall movement in his chest.

 _You're not on the field, you're not at war. You're here, John! You're here!_ The dark haired American finally let out a raggedy excuse of an exhale but he didn't move. He was scared that the second he did; there would be a sudden flurry of bullets zooming towards him. John pinched his breast pocket once more to be sure that the pocket watch that saved his life before was still in his possession.

"I'm sorry about that, Miss Ophelia." John recoiled away from the British brunette in his company. _Fuck!_ He was terrified he left a bruise on the young lady. "I didn't mean to grab at you."

"I'm fine." Ophelia looked straight into John's eyes: one blue and one brown. She knew; just by the look in John's eyes alone, she knew he'd gone through some terrible experiences of his own. "I will be fine. Are you alright though?"

Silence.

Ophelia inched over to the wizard; their fingers brushed against each other but she didn't care nor did she mind. "Would you like to talk about it?" Ophelia knew that she probably could never speak to her Tom so casually had they'd be in an instance such as this together-he'd blow up in her face and tell her to not waste time trying to understand him because she was too simple to even comprehend anything about Tom.

She got a strong inkling that John Westing wasn't anything like Tom Riddle-she didn't fear his reaction over a question.

"Not particularly at this moment. I try to limit any recollection of the war." John breathed out as he felt Ophelia's thumb carefully caress the back of one of his rather brute looking hands. John closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax once more as he leaned against the trunk of the oak tree; Ophelia still tracing random patterns of scribbles on his hands.

Sometimes-just sometimes-the most magical thing to happen to witches and wizards doesn't actually involve magic. In this case, it meant finding a piece of peace within someone else who neither expected nor wanted anything in return from the other.


	39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.

I know I haven't been updating as often and I do apologize for that. Between work, my own things to sort out, and trying to figure out exactly how I want the chapters to go it can take a while to put up new chapters. I am sorry for the late update. Also, if there are any errors, please let me know so I can come back and fix the typos.

I want to say thank you to everyone who is still reading this series. Thank you to everyone who has added this series into the favorites or alerts and thank you so much to the readers who drop reviews and help me work on improving the chapters. I appreciate it all.

* * *

November 24, 1948

Albus Dumbledore had canceled his last class of the day moments before it began when an old student and a stranger walked into his class. "Miss Darwin!" Dumbledore reached out and clasped her hand firmly; he almost didn't know where to start with her. "What are you doing here? There's been a search party launched for you through the Ministry-are you even aware of where you are?"

The auburn haired man knew the strange circumstance of which Ophelia Darwin was checked nto St. Mungo's and he was at first heavily suspecting Tom Marvolo Riddle was the reason she had fallen into a coma.

"I'm Hogwarts, Professor. In the transfiguration class." Ophelia answered promptly.

"Well, yes but what are you doing _ **here**_?" Dumbledore turned to the stranger who accompanied Miss Darwin; he ignored that this newcomer looked much like a former Slytherin prefect. "How did you two get here? No one can apparate on these grounds anymore."

A polite and oh-so-smooth Southern accent echoed out. "Miss Ophelia here sure knows her away the floo system to get where she needs to be."

"Professor," Ophelia stepped away from John and closer to Dumbledore. "I know that the state of my health seems fragile but I have more pressing concerns if you would care to listen."

"Is it about-?" The great Albus Dumbledore didn't finish his sentence.

"Yes."

John felt the mood of the room shift tremendously. He studied the looks of the older wizard and the witch he spent most of the day with; both were serious about whatever topic was at hand.

"John?" Ophelia called out, she looked at him in his eyes. "Would you mind giving the professor and I moment please?"

The American auror, nodded quietly but he didn't leave straight away. "I'll be outside if you need me, Miss Ophelia."

There some comfort to be found in John Westing's voice and even as he strode out of the Transfiguration classroom-his presence didn't leave Ophelia.

As Dumbledore sat on the top of his classroom desk to brace for their conversation; Ophelia stood up rigidly.

"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore started off casually but with some weariness in tone.

"His soul isn't together." Ophelia told her former professor confidentally. Even though she wasn't exactly sure as to why his soul wasn't together-she knew enough to know Tom's soul was not together. "At first, I thought his soul was fading but I've felt the essence of it and it is cold and empty." Chills prickled over her skin as she recalled the moment that led to her being unconscious. Or at the very least, what she could recall.

"Are you saying this with a completely sound mind and your statements aren't in likeness to that of a mad woman?" Dumbledore knew this was serious but where would the proof be?

"Please, you've got to believe me this time!" Ophelia closed her eyes and rubbed her temples; the memory of her peyote induced dreams. She could remember the poem the dark entity recited; it forced its way into her thoughts. _Maybe I am going mad?_

"Why would Tom's soul be missing? How would it be missing?." Dumbledore didn't utter the word 'Horcrux' to Ophelia should she actually be spying for Tom Riddle in any sort of way.

"He's done something awful, Professor!" Ophelia's voice trembled as she meant to yell the statement but it came out sounding more scared than angry. She recalled what she could from the poem in her dreams. "I'll cut my soul and put it into a ring…" Ophelia closed her eyes tight and tried to remember the rest of the poem but it was hard. "I need another soul to take, for that is the only way to please the snake."

Surprise bubbled inside of the older wizard but he concealed it from the young witch.

Dumbledore played it off coyly, "Reciting things from dreams isn't really considered proof. Not even those blessed with complete and competent abilities in divination are correct in what they pull from dreams."

"Be that as it may, I get the feeling he will not stop until…" Ophelia stopped in the middle of her sentence. The number seven was now randomly popping her mind. _Now what in the hell does_ _the number seven have to do with Tom?_

Even though he didn't show it, Dumbledore did believe Ophelia. Now more than ever since Tom Riddle went and did the unspeakable. But as he looked on and studied the all too frazzled brunette in front of him; immersing her deeper into the dark tangle Tom had already trapped her in would be in poor taste.

"Ophelia, you're not well right now." Dumbledore approached the witch carefully. "Your family is worried about you right now; they don't even know your whereabouts or if you're even alive. It is my duty to have to contact the Ministry as to give your family a peace of mind."

"Please don't tell me that I am ill." Ophelia was irritated and as Dumbledore guided her out of the Transfigurations classroom but she held that emotion closely to herself. "I am not ill-mentally, physically, emotionally or otherwise." As much as Ophelia wanted to explode, scream at how it was unfair that nothing she said could convince Dumbledore of anything yet he would entertain the notions of what she would say. _It makes me feel crazy but I'm not… I'm not._

"I never said ill, Miss Darwin, I just said not well." Dumbledore opened the doors of his classroom and gently guided Ophelia out. "You'll be fine soon, you need somewhere to rest."

John Westing was leaning against the wall next to the door but he automatically stood up straight when he noticed the two British magic users were in the hall with him. He said nothing though.

He looked to the older wizard before looking to the female witch.

Ophelia caught John's look. "Professor Dumbledore, will be notifying the Ministry about my whereabouts."

John nodded his head and again kept his gaze solely on with British witch. There was a disquieted look painted on her face.

"You two are welcomed to have dinner in the Grand Hall whilst you wait for someone from the Ministry to gather you." Professor Dumbledore's voice was kind and soft. "Shall I request anyone specific to come and retrieve you, Miss Darwin?"

"Would it be possible by any chance for me to turn myself to the Ministry?"

Albus sighed, "Unfortunately, no. The Ministry is rather formal and strict in how the deal with a great many things."

"Then I want either Zolotov or Elwood, please." Ophelia replied back, her voice had the smallest detection of irritation to it. The half-blooded witch then added, "I will only allow Zolotov or Elwood to come and collect me. Do not send me Malfoy, Lestrange, Nott, or anyone else."

Dumbledore merely nodded. "I'll make sure to add that detail in when I write to them." The auburn haired wizard looked at the American Auror now. "I'll leave Miss Darwin in your care for the time being." With that the wizard took off to where it was he deemed fit for the time.

Ophelia looked down the hall towards where she remembered the Grand Hall to be; her gaze then went over to John Westing. It was almost too uncanny (in Sigmund Freud's type of uncanny was, she thought) how Ophelia would walk down the halls of Hogwarts with the handsome British wizard and now she was doing the same thing...Only with an American wizard who looked too much...Well, like her fiance.

"Fuck me." Ophelia whispered as she felt as if the ring on her left hand suddenly tightened into her skin.

John's ears easily picked up the cuss that escaped the brunette's mouth; if anyone squinted long enough maybe they'd see a slight blush lightly colored on his cheeks. Even though John heard strings of profanity so extreme it could offend the devil during his time in the good old American (muggle) Army, he figured it would probably be best if he ignored what Ophelia said.

* * *

William Zolotov rushed to Hogwarts from his office as soon as he got a letter from Professor

Dumbledore. The news had spread quickly that a patient had escaped from St. Mungo's and at first, William thought the whole thing was funny. Until, he found out the patient who had escaped was none other than a fellow Hufflepuff who was only a year younger than him.

The Russian wizard was fortunate enough that the Ministry allowed him to fetch his friend and even allow him to take the official Ministry carriage. His eyes bounced quickly between finishing the paperwork that declared a missing person as found; his brunette friend and to his surprise, the American Auror he and Peter met not too long ago.

Maybe becoming a father changed William a little bit. A friend wakes up and goes missing for a few hours-oh well-they're all grown adults enough to find their way back if they wanted. Now his emotions went from relieved to angry to suspicious upon retrieving his friend.

"I don't understand what you were thinking, Pipa." William finished the last of his paperwork and threw it to the empty space next to him. His eyes the zeroed in on the wizard who sat next to Ophelia. "Nor do I understand why you went along with whatever she was thinking."

"How would you feel if you were cooped up day after day in a hospital?" Ophelia asked her friend. "Then you woke up and no one was there for you?"

William shook his head, "That isn't good enough of an excuse to escape a hospital."

A weak smile graced Ophelia's lips, "It was for me."

"I hope and pray to whatever higher powers there may be that Yara doesn't have the sense to run off out on a whim when she is older." William commented as he felt the carriage gradually slow down. He looked out the window and could see the Elwood manor in sight. "Pipa, you better come up with a better excuse as to why you took off from St. Mungo's or Margo's going to have your head." The Russian wizard looked over to the American wizard, "Please say your goodbyes to Pipa, I have direct orders to take you and the three other wizards you came with back to your respective homes."

The carriage came to complete stop and already Peter Elwood stood at the front of the manor; his arms crossed against his chest; his posture perfect; and a disapproving look plastered over his face.

"Is he mad at me too?" Ophelia asked as she looked out the carriage window.

William ignored Ophelia's question and only acknowledge John Westing at this point. "I'll give you five minutes to say goodbye to your new friend." The Russian wizard stepped out of the carriage and slammed the door shut as he went to go converse with Peter for five minutes.

"Quite the group of friends you got, Miss Ophelia." John noted as he turned directly to face the only other person in the carriage with him.

"They're only worried is all, I suppose." Ophelia inched closer to John. She took a shallow breath in yet managed to let out a deep sigh. "Thank you, John for tagging along with me today. I hope you don't think me to be too crazy." Her pale green eyes looked into John's different colored eyes and realized that as she looked at John, she didn't associate him as a Tom Riddle look a like or compare him to Tom Riddle in anyway.

John chuckled and a little smirk cracked out on his face. "I'll try not to." As he studied her, he began to see her in a different light. John could admit that no longer did he see a sick girl whose mind was clouded with sporadic thoughts. He could admit that he actually found her rather beautiful...Too bad about that ring on her finger though, right?

"Let me know when you get back home safely." Ophelia almost reached out to give John's hands a comforting squeeze like she did in the park but she was able to stop herself. Their day together was over-she was more coherent enough now and was more than capable of keeping her hands to herself. "Write to me if you can."

"I'll ask Ruth for your address." John answered promptly.

Ophelia opened her mouth to speak but a loud knocking sound on the outside of the carriage interrupt her.

"Alright, that is enough." Peter's voice was firm as he put a hand out for Ophelia to take. "Time to go." The Elwood heir looked over to John Westing. "Have a good trip back to America."

Ophelia stayed planted in her seat but she did put a hand out. She wanted to go back to what she was going to say to John. "How soon can you wri-."

"Ophelia Mae Darwin," Peter snapped. "Let's go."

A melancholy smile graced John's lips instead of the smirk he sported moments ago. "Until next time, I guess." John southern accent was so strong in a sentence that contained no more than six words.

"Next time sounds fine." Ophelia took Peter's hand and stepped out of the carriage. She didn't get to take a second glance back at either William or John as the carriage immediately took flight as soon as both her feet were planted on the ground.

"I'm not one to care too terribly much about your personal relationships," Peter Elwood noted.

"As your friend who cares about you and your future, I don't think you should be writing letters to a man who is single as you are engaged."

"So, you're mad at me too then?" Ophelia asked as she walked closely behind Peter into the Elwood manor.

"Pipa," Peter's voice was steady and trying to convey a tone of reasonability. He didn't want to be cruel to his long time friend (William did try as well to be understanding-try being a keyword) he understood that Ophelia was feeling out of it more or less but why? Why, why, why-was her first reaction to run?! "I am more disappointed that you ran off. Do you know how worried everyone has been since your coma? Then we-Me, Margo, William, and Zyra-we hear that you are wide awake but you've up and ran. Don't even get me started on how your family has been over you." _Shit._

Ophelia's lips pressed down into a thin line, the corners of her mouth pointed down. Her eyes watered but no tears were to be found. Her face felt hot with guilt and shame. Maybe she was being too selfish-maybe she had gotten so used to coming and going as she pleased in and out of people's lives.

 _Shit._ Peter sighed. "Look, you don't need to feel bad. What's done is done."

"Can I see Margo? Is she taking visitors?"

Peter shook his head side to side, indicating that the answer was a no. "Since Autumn's been born she's been exhausted. They are both asleep and I want Margo to get some rest."

"Oh." Ophelia chewed the inside of her cheek.

"Tom will be here for you any minute now to take you home so even if Margo were awake there wouldn't be much of a point for you to visit her."

"Tom?" The tone Ophelia used as she spat her fiance's name out was one of mixed emotions. There wasn't a correct way for her to even comprehend it. "Does he have to get me? Why can't I just go on my own from here or maybe even stay one night?"

"Ophelia." The reasonable tone in Peter's voice was starting to fade away. "Tom is going to be here to collect you and you're going to go home with him because he is your fiance."

"He doesn't love me." Ophelia commented off handedly; her voice shook as she combed her fingers through her hair as an attempt to calm down. "He really doesn't. I don't think Tom is even capable of love."

 _She really must still be recovering.._.Peter looked at his friend, absolute confusion all over his face. "If he doesn't love you, why did he propose to you? Why did he keep in touch with you after you were expelled from Hogwarts? Why did he want to take you to Albania?" Peter took a step toward Ophelia and the second he did a look of heartbreak was all too apparent in her eyes.

"Pipa?" He didn't move any closer to her.

"Abuse and reuse a loyal resource, right?" Ophelia began to rant on. "Because that's all I am to him. I don't think his friends are even his friends because they like him-they're his friends because they fear him."

"What are you on about?" Peter asked. He was so lost as to what Ophelia was talking about.

She didn't give him an answer; instead the loud crackling of green fire from the front room echoed out from the first floor of Peter and Margo's home. Ophelia knew whose footsteps those were, as quiet as those footsteps were, she could _ **feel**_ him.

"Elwood, I cannot thank you nor Zolotov enough." In a heartbeat, Tom was already by the witch he deemed as his but he didn't verbally acknowledge her quite yet. He did however, take his own coat off his back and placed it on Ophelia's shoulders-his scent and warmth took over her senses.

Peter took a second to process the sudden shift of mood from one person to the next but he was quick to recover. "No need to thank us, really." He looked over to Ophelia but he didn't say anything. Her green eyes seemed glazed over all of a sudden with no real emotions telling Peter what she was feeling; her hands seemed like they were fidgeting on a will that was completely their own and skirted in random patterns on the front of the coat Tom just placed on her.

Yet when Peter looked over to Tom Riddle, there was an emotion in his eyes that allowed Peter to think that it was love or passion Tom had for his friend. Peter even noticed how Tom's arm wrapped around Ophelia's waist gently, as if she was made of glass.

"Why don't you two stay the night? I'll prepare a guest room." Peter word's flew out of his mouth faster than he could mentally comprehend. Emotionally, Peter Elwood felt like he had to say something, anything to get that blank look out of Ophelia's eyes.

"No, I wouldn't want to impose." The former Slytherin prefect offered a polite but rather forced grin to his former schoolmate. "I'd like to take Ophelia home so she could recover, plus, I am sure you and Mrs. Elwood are already busy accommodating a baby."

Ophelia moved away from Tom and over to Peter to give him a firm hug. Her voice was so quiet and low as spoke into her friend's ear, it almost couldn't be a whisper. "Thank you."

In her mind she meant to say: 'Thank you for trying, Pete', but Ophelia didn't want to leave an imprint of guilt on her friend should she have said it exactly how she thought it. "I'll try and pop by next weekend to see you, Margo, and the baby." Ophelia pulled away and very discreetly wiped any tears that might have escaped her eyes. "Let me know when is fine." Slowly, Ophelia removed herself from her friend and took steps back to her fiance.

"Good Night, Elwood. Send my regards to your wife." Tom took a hold of one of Ophelia's hands and intertwined his fingers with hers as he walked over to the fire place. He was adamant to take his witch home; she was his and _they_ belonged at home more than anywhere else.

* * *

As green flames climbed over their bodies. Ophelia closed her eyes and in the brief time it took the floo system to take them away, she pretended the floo would take them to when they were no more than first years instead of the heavy present. She pretended that if she could go back those beginning years-hell maybe even beginning days-she could have saved him.

"We're home." Tom stepped out of fireplace, stood in front of Ophelia and took his coat off her body.

Ophelia opened her eyes; her mind done with pretending. There was only one person she could save.

Tom walked backwards from Ophelia; he had one hand in his trouser pockets and pulled out his fiance's wand. The heir of Slytherin then placed the wand in the air with a slight enchantment and with a careful flick of his thumb and pointer finger-he sent the wand spinning to its owner.

The brunette witch pinched her wand out of the air but she did nothing once it was back in her hands. She didn't even examine the wand; she tucked it away in the sleeve of her dress for the moment. Ophelia didn't move out of the fireplace; she wasn't ready yet.

"Are you going to come out of there or not?" Tom's hands were in tucked across his shoulders, his back pressed against the wall firm and tense, and the all too familiar look of disappointment beamed out of his brown eyes and locked on the woman he claimed to be fiance.

"I'd like to go home." Ophelia wasn't looking directly at Tom. Rather, looking around him. She pretended that the wall around his perfect face was more than just a blank wall; she imagined that a paintbrush was hovering around, splashing the wall with colors. "Please."

"You are home."

"My home is in West Berkshire."

Tom arched an eyebrow at Ophelia. _Is she delusional?_

Ophelia didn't like the silence that echoed around between Tom, her, and the all too big house. She repeated her previous statement. "My home is in West Berkshire."

Tom pushed off from the wall, detangled his arms, and marched straight towards the fireplace.

Ophelia didn't step back as Tom's figure seemed to trap into a corner. Rather she took a step forward the handsome man, neck back, shoulders up, and to the best of her ability she ignored the boiling sensation of anxiety pooling in the depths of her stomach.

"Your home, Ophelia, is here. In Dorset." Tom looked down at her. He noticed the defiant spark in Ophelia before, but now it was growing.

"'All my things are in West Berkshire." Ophelia replied back.

"Your things have been moved to here." Tom answered promptly. "So unless you plan on sleeping in the fireplace, come out."

Ophelia didn't move, and the only part of her body that did were the facial muscles that allowed a pout to take place over her features. That slight anger in her eyes was growing.

Tom stepped back, hands in his pockets, and turned his back on her. "Do whatever you want. You're a grown woman. But I will have you know that I've used the last bit of floo powder to get you." He then added, "Also, for the sake of our privacy there's been an anti-apparition charm placed on our home. I didn't want people popping in and out like our home is a pub." Tom turned to Ophelia. "Come into bed at a reasonable time. The healers at St. Mungo's say you need to rest."

 _Why you sneaky-!_ Ophelia couldn't even think of a proper word. In a blink she rushed out of the fireplace and rushed towards the living room. That reaction was one mainly out of instinct, but the living room was usually where a phone was in Ophelia's parents' home. Her eyes looked over the area in a general skimming process. Is she could find a phone, she could dial for maybe a cab? Or maybe she could get her dad to come and get her?

 _Nothing._

The half-blooded witch spun around the room, pacing between the corners. _Nothing._

Hell, she looked under the couch in the center of the room then for good measure Ophelia took out her wand and pointed at all the open spaces. " _Revelio."_

 _Nothing!_

Ophelia walked out of the living room, but she threw one last glance around the room as she gave up.

"Why are there no phones in the house?" Ophelia yelled out as she walked towards the front parlor room. Ophelia flipped the light switch on as she passed through the arch way. First, her pale green eyes widened in surprise before they narrowed in anger. "Where's the piano?"

There was silence.

"Tom?" Ophelia pinched the bridge of her nose hard; her heart was pounding; and she could almost feel a cold wave full of dread radiated out of every pore on her body. "Tom!" Her voice cracked as she called for him.

Tom Riddle's footsteps while quiet were rushed as he headed down the stairs and over to his fiance. As soon as he laid eyes on Ophelia, Tom knew what she was upset about. He didn't see any tears on her face; but he could sense the stress she was experiencing.

There was a type of contented gaze in his eyes as Ophelia stood in the rather empty feeling parlor room. It was a brief glimpse, a nice and possibly even a sweet reminder to him of the scared little witch she had been.


	40. Chapter 40

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.

Hey everyone, sorry for the late update. This chapter took me a while to update due to a lot of things going on in my life: work got crazy with changing my schedule so often, I decided to continue my college education, and I had to save up to buy a new laptop. I am very sorry-I wish I could update on a regular schedule like before and maybe that could happen again but who knows. I apologize for the late chapter. Also, if there are any typos please let me know so I can fix it.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think in the reviews. Thank you so much to those readers who stay and still read this series-I appreciate you all so much.

* * *

November 25, 1948

John Westing stared at the blank paper in front of him. He would pick up a pen think of something to write then completely drop the pen. A sigh of frustration escaped his mouth.

"Either write the letter or don't." Ruth called out from the kitchen of her home. "You're acting like a lovesick school girl." She then added. "Ask Ophelia how she is doing. Ask if she feeling like herself."

The American auror looked over to Ruth, a question bubbled in his mind but he wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to know seeing as the magic Ruth practiced and taught was the exact magic that landed him on suspension from the MACUSA. The question stayed and only lived in John's mind for a mere second.

John looked out the windows of the kitchen and looked on as the sun hung above Ruth's house. Was it right of him to even write to Ophelia? She was engaged and for all John knew, it was probably a happy arrangement. Maybe it was a bad day in an otherwise balanced relationship. John probably misread all the signals.

He stood up from the kitchen table, grabbed a brown wide bullhide buffalo hat and a hunting rifle all before he stepped outside. "If I bag an elk, would you cook it up for dinner?"

Ruth let out a dry chuckle. "Get a big one, we can have elk steak."

* * *

There was a rather odd but steady sensation of being overwhelmed in Tom's gut. Which was rather uncalled for. He was rather content at the moment-or as close to content as his naturally devious personality could be.

The Dark Lord was comfortable, sitting at the head of the table, among his loyal followers in the front room of Avery's home. It may have only been slightly past noon but spirits, liquors, and some stouts were scattered about in the presence of the wizards. Their conversations ranged from how their families respective businesses were doing, idiot coworkers at the Ministry, Quidditch, and their own personal endeavors. Still, that uneasy gut feeling was all too comfortable inside of Tom.

The wives of his followers took tea in the second parlor room located in the back of the Avery home. Ophelia went along too not for the promise of tea and baked goodies. She went because more or less Tom Riddle convinced her to start branching out and try to make more friends in the high class wizarding world.

At first, Ophelia thought the worst thing that could happen was possibly, one of the wives wouldn't be interested in talking with her due to her only being half-blooded. Upon being introduced to the wives, they seemed to show an unnerving amount of interest to speak with her.

"So glad you're feeling better."

"Riddle was rather worried about you-my husband was surprised your fiance found the motivation to even be able to work."

"I heard you like to travel, have you ever been to Spain?"

"No-not Spain! Italy is where all the luxury clothing and jewels are!"

"I prefer France, the countryside is nice and the chateau my family owns is one of my favorite things."

"Oh! There is little restaurant right by the Ministry there, they serve the best Quiche au Saumon et Crevettes! That means salmon and shrimp quiche, my husband told me that you don't speak French."

"How interesting, you don't speak French."

"Oh hush, Nadine. You don't even have a secondary language."

"You're friends with the Zolotovs and the Elwoods, why not ask them to teach you Russian or Albanian?"

"I heard you and Riddle took a short holiday to Albania-did you enjoy it?"

"Albania? Goodness, I haven't been there since...Maybe since I was five."

"I hear you go to the Americas and some countries outside of the modern loop. Do you stay with wizards like us or the more, primitive wizards I guess?"

"Hold on a tick, when you visit somewhere, do you visit the muggle side of things or do you visit the wizard side?"

"You know, Elsa, I was wondering about that but I didn't want to say it out right."

"Are you completely fine with being in the same outing spot as muggles? It doesn't bother you?"

"Ladies, she's a half-blood. Obviously, she's fine with muggles."

"I think I saw your family at the Elwood wedding, I was actually surprised they got invited into the Blaine estate. Your mum is rather clean looking for a muggle."

"Clara, I don't think that needed to be said right in this moment."

"Why don't we talk about something else! Delphina, how are the renovations at Malfoy manor going?"

Very subtly Delphina shot a side glance towards Ophelia but didn't directly bother to look at her. Instead, Delphina looked down on her very pregnant belly and gently traced a pattern on the surface of her dress. "It's going alright, but Abraxas was so looking forward to having a new place all together. He thought he found a charming place a while ago in Dorset-no such luck though."

Ophelia moved her chair away from the table, her untouched cup of tea and small plate of biscuits and macaroons shook as she placed a decorative serviette on the side of it. "Excuse me. I need some fresh air."

"Of course! Take your time."

Ophelia didn't smile back to show any type of civility or politeness. Rather, she got up and trekked to the front. The light chatter the wives drifted out of her ears while the sounds of men talking amongst themselves started to filter into her senses.

The men folk, upon hearing the quick clacks and clicks of heels across the floor lowered their voices. As if a woman hearing their conversation would be a bad thing.

Tom placed his glass of cognac down as he saw Ophelia dart by. "Continue on. I'll be back."

The Avery's household had their garden off to the west side of their home; autumn loomed present and heavy in background and only a few flowers such as snowdrops, begonias, and primroses live there. There was even a row of tall birch trees, dressed in fall colors that lined along the garden's portion of the Avery's house. If the Avery's had any outdoor furniture, it must have been put away or simply not bought yet.

Before they came to this little brunch, there was already a knot in Ophelia's stomach that seemed to only grow bigger and uglier as the visit with the wives left her unwelcomed, tense, and for some reason feeling ugly. To add onto that experience: never- absolutely _never-_ did Ophelia feel that it was possible to breathe wrong until the wives of Tom's 'friends' put her a magnifying glass with a bias tint.

That multiplied everything she felt to an extreme she wasn't used to.

Yes, she was still angry that Tom had gotten rid of the piano in their home in Dorset. Yes, she was still hyper aware of the all too realistic dreams she had from her time in her rather short coma which Tom was depicted. All those emotions kept amplifying negatively inside of her.

The best way the brunette half-blood could explain what she felt was simple: Ophelia physically wanted out of her skin. She didn't want to be herself anymore.

 _Oh, Lord_. Now her pale green eyes were starting to sting.

Tom found his fiance pacing near the birch trees. He read into her body language: the way her hands tensely gripped into the sides of the dress she wore; the way her jaw seemed locked; and there was an almost comical stiffness to how straight she was standing.

"Ophelia." Tom called out to his fiance as he closed in on the distance between them by falling into the steps of her rapid pacing.

She didn't waste time beating around the bush with Tom today. "Those women are horrid."

The handsome wizard was taken aback for a slight second; there was no banter or gentle metaphor that escaped out of Ophelia's mouth. She didn't even try to explain what had happened-just that the wives of his associates were horrid.

"How are they horrid?" Tom was curious. If he knew Ophelia as well as he liked to think he did, she was agreeable in most normal social situations-what exactly made her reel away so hard in her interaction with these particular pure-blooded witches.

A rather uncharacteristically harsh scoff practically coughed its way out of Ophelia's mouth.

Tom's eyes narrowed at her and there was a lopsided frown on the corner of his lips. "What?"

Ophelia stopped her pacing and looked Tom straight in the eyes. "What do you mean 'what'? As if you don't already know."

Tom recognized the tone of voice she had used on him; he'd use it before on her multiple times over when he was irritated. "Apparently, I don't know. That is why I am even bothering to ask." Tom words while sounding concerned held careful notes of that dark authoritarian tune his voice naturally seemed to have.

"Why did you invite me here, Tom?" Ophelia asked back. "So your little friends' wives could pretend to tolerate me while they take turns jabbing at me?"

Tom almost let his guard down and reacted to what Ophelia said. He did feel a small twinge of pain of he looked into Ophelia's face and upon closer inspection he realized that she'd been fighting the urge to cry. He'd seen her cry many, many times but the fact she was actively bottling the urge away turned a red light in his mind.

"Ophelia, what did they say to you?" Tom's voice was deep, low, and there was a strategical drip of danger as he spoke.

The former Hufflepuff's eyes looked down to the ground before skirting back to Tom's face. "I will not repeat anything of what they said to me. I will let you know that it is very evident to me that Clara Nott, Delphina Malfoy, Tabitha Rosier, Florence Avery, Elsa Dolohov, and Katrina Lestrange know I am a half-blood. I can also tell you that those women more than likely do not like me because of that."

The first question that popped out of Tom's mouth was the first one that came in his head. "Did you let on you were a half-blood?"

"Excuse me?" Ophelia felt like she'd been slap in the face. _How did Tom's question relate to anything I told him?_

"Did you tell them you were a half-blood?" Tom restated his question and for an extra effect, he gripped onto Ophelia's wrist.

"They brought that up themselves, Tom. They already knew I was a half-blood!" Ophelia then added. "Also what difference does it make if I brought it up? Is there any shame in me being part muggle? Am I supposed to sit there and just take that?" There was a spark of lividity lit up in Ophelia's soul. It took over her face as a look of complete disappointment struck features. It took over her body as she ripped herself away from Tom's hold. It took over every aspect of Ophelia and for whatever powers may be: she wanted to soak in that anger.

"No." Tom felt the heat of indignation that radiated off Ophelia easily threaded and weaved itself into him.

"You can stay here if you'd like, Tom. Obviously, these are your breed of people. I'm going home." Ophelia made a beeline back to the Avery's home; she was certain the floo system was somewhere in that house.

A loud crackling sound filtered through the air and Tom placed himself in front of Ophelia's path.

"You don't have to leave, Ophelia." Tom tried to reach for her hands, but instead his fingertips just met with the air surrounding where Ophelia used to be.

"I want to leave so I am going to!" Ophelia apparated only a mere five feet away from the former Slytherin prefect. "I am going home!" She was shaking; did Tom not understand anything she said. Didn't he understand even a little about how that felt?

 _Hold on._ Ophelia stopped in her tracks, one hand on the front door and another hand tucked like shield in front of her stomach. She turned to Tom. "I could be wrong, but please correct me if I am wrong." Ophelia paused, trying to find the right words. "You and I are alike. We might not have been put in the same house and we didn't run in the same social circles during those Hogwart years but you and I are alike, Tom."

The heir of Slytherin stood still in silence and was slightly curious as to where the half-blooded witch was going to take this conversation to.

"You didn't spend your summers during Hogwarts in France, Spain, or Italy like them. You spent those summers in muggle side of England like I did." Ophelia went on, her head shook as she tried to still piece her words together. "How can you tolerate being in these peoples' company when they show that they can be so biased? Being born from a muggle isn't a crime nor is being born a half-blood."

That last statement irked the heir of Slytherin. "What the fuck are you insinuating, Ophelia?"

 _Was there a nerve I hit?_ Ophelia was caught a little off guard. It was her turn to be silent.

"I'm not a some filthy mixed wizard, Ophelia- _darling_." Tom hissed out at the brunette; he took no more than eight menacing steps towards the witch. "That's where we differ. Your blood, no matter whatever positive merits you have as person, your blood will never be as clean as mine."

First Ophelia wasn't sure she heard correctly. Next, the arm that acted as a shield around her stomach went limp down to her side. The third thing that happened was Ophelia became slack jawed and her head tilted off center. "Excuse me…" She blinked and kept her eyes closed a fraction of second longer than usual. "What are _you_ insinuating now, Tom?"

"I am willing to look over your blood status," Tom spoke with a calmness in voice but an overall tone of condescension. That was normal, that was expected of Tom's general behavior and mannerisms. It was the sickening flow of pure honesty and sincerity that was so odd. "I was alway willing to look over that, Ophelia. Your loyalty, while at the moment could be questionable, is your best quality."

"My loyalty?" Ophelia scoffed out, the word left a rancid taste in her mouth. Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty-that was all Tom seemed to care about with her. "Also, what-what-what do you mean mean that's questionable?"

Tom was quick to answer back. "You're my fiance! You're supposed to stand by me. It's nice you've traveled and you're 'cultured' but your place as a wife is by me!" He pointed an angry finger at his own chest before he gestured that hand to the Avery household. "The pureblood women in there understand it . You can think they are horrid all you want but at least they know their place!"

There was only so much Ophelia Mae Darwin could take in one day. There was more anger than ever in her body and her movement processed without her conscious trying to stop it all.

Ophelia's hand moved quietly and at a maddening speed and it made its mark spot on Tom's face. On his perfect, symmetric, handsome and irritating face. Yet, Ophelia felt a similar pain flashed onto her own face.

Tom Marvolo Riddle who received the worst of the physical impact still caught the quick flash of pain that echoed in the eyes of the former Hufflepuff. _What just happened?_ He doubt Ophelia was in those 'this hurts me more than it hurts you' moods.

 _What did you do?_ Ophelia screamed in her head. _Why did you do that?_ She wasn't done yet though, she still wanted to hurt him. Without thinking, with letting angry impulse take over her whole being-she ripped off the ring from her left hand and threw it right at Tom's chest.

With a ragged and breathy tone, she could only muster a simple sentence. "I think we're done here."

As soon as passed through the threshold of the Avery's home, it was easy to spot an audience. The wives were giddy at first when Ophelia excused herself from their little tea session; it only took them a good three minutes to make the half-blooded witch feel on the outs. Where she belonged anyhow.

When the women heard and then saw the argument they reached peak and full levels of ecstasy.

"Leaving so soon?" Florence Avery tried to fake the concern in her voice, but the smile of being thoroughly entertained was all too present on the dusty blonde's face.

"Maybe some biscuits for the road?" Delphina was all too happy to see how upset the half-blood witch was. "We should do this again. Totally worth the fun." Delphina tossed her chocolate cherry toned hair over her shoulder and soon tossed a look over to her husband. "We can host next time right, Abraxas?"

Ophelia Darwin tried to pretend it was all white noise to her ears but it was all to clear and distinct. She walked right up to the fire place in the Avery home and grabbed a handful of floo powder from a chimney pail that was fixated in midair.

Green flames engulfed over her and in a blink she was gone.

Tom Riddle felt as if everything was playing out in slow motion, 'West Berkshire' rang in his ears. He clutched the engagement ring in the palm of his hand. The uneasiness that bubbled in his system earlier was gone, yet the strong sensation of shame shot throughout Tom's body.

"Good riddance." Tabitha Rossier scoffed as she took a sip from her cup. "Being around her made me feel dirty."

"Why did you lot do that?" Tom spoke before anyone else took the chance to complain about Ophelia's presence. His eyes were completely blank as he stared at the empty fireplace but slowly those eyes shifted from brown to red.

No one answered him.

"Why did you that?" Tom asked again. He zeroed in on the Avery couple, more specifically on Florence. "Are you inept as a hostess that you can't control a conversation amongst your guests?"

Silence rang out, the fun the beautiful pure and pedigreed witches had was gone. No more giddiness, no more excitement.

"I thought I told you all that Ophelia was to be treated no different than anyone else in here." Tom echoed out coldly.

"That filth you want to play house with will never be like us, My Lord." Clara Nott felt Graham's eyes immediately on her. The witch with sherry red hair was going to say whatever she felt like-she always had and no one was going to ever prevent her to do so. She already felt like her tongue was still for much too long. "If you want a worthy bride My Lord, I know someone in the Black family-."

" _Bombarda!"_

* * *

"Mum!" Ophelia walked around her parents' home in West Berkshire. "Dad?" She ran upstairs, her wand in hand as she came across the hidden door. "Poppa?"

"Pipa?" The was the rustle of footsteps were heard right before the office door opened. "Pippa? What are you doing here-visiting?"

The rushed scent of mint and oolong tea was a great comfort to the senses.

"Hi, Poppa." Ophelia put her wand away into her dress pocket. The muscle memory of her legs immediately led her into her grandfather's office and she soon planted herself on the gray ottoman as to save the recliner for the older wizard.

Gregory Darwin scratched what reminded of his hair and peered out into the hallway before. No one else was there with them it seemed. "Where's Tom?" He closed the door and retreated back to the comfort of his recliner. He might have cared for the lad but he was going to have maintain some sort of civility. "Will he be joining us for dinner tonight?"

"I doubt it, Poppa." Ophelia scoffed. "I doubt he'll be coming by ever." She brought her left hand up to her face.

Gregory had to squint at the hand being held up but as soon as he saw what he wasn't looking at he was quick to pick up on. "Why is the engagement off, Pipa?" There was concern in the wizard's voice.

The brunette shrugged and a sad pout graced her face, a sharp inhale and the threat of vexation tried to rear its ugly presence to the surface. "Personal differences."

"Can't say I understand but it was your relationship and that was your call, Ophelia." Poppa snapped his fingers and a rotary phone levitated towards him. "What I can gather from this that your mum will be unhappy if she doesn't fix enough food for all of us tonight, so I'll let her know you're moving back in." The old man then grumbled under his breath. "She is going to throw a fit though since she had her heart set on turning your room into a sewing room."

There was a light scratching sound coming from the office window; Ophelia turned and saw an owl impatiently waiting for her to open the window.

"You best get that because I am not, deary." Poppa stated firmly as he squinted his eyes at the rotary phones dials and tried to remember what Wendy Darwin's work number was.

Ophelia got up from the ottoman and marched over to the window and upon closer inspection, she recognized the owl. _Margo?_ Ophelia arched an eyebrow as she grabbed the envelope from the owl's talons. _What could she be writing about?_ They didn't make any plans recently to visit with each other. Her heart plummeted down to the deepest pits of her stomach. _What if it has to do with her baby? Is it the baby? Something could be wrong?_ She ripped the envelope open and began to quickly read through the letter.

 _ **Pipa,**_

 _ **I am not too sure what's going on right now. I heard some rumors about you that I hope isn't true...You've been out of it lately but I'd like to think I know you well enough.**_

 _ **Anyways, Peter and I have been persuaded to throw a last minute dinner party. I didn't know Tom and you were close to some of the guests. Please be by the house by three thirty at the latest. Dinner will be served at three thirty. I know that's early for a dinner party but Peter and I do have a newborn to look after.**_

 _ **P.S-I hope you have a decent enough dress to wear for tonight. I'm afraid I don't have anything for you to borrow this time.**_

 _ **-Margo.**_

Ophelia read that letter three times over to make sure she comprehended everything that printed out on her friends' letter. For a brief second, Ophelia wondered how or why she was even friends with Margo but she put that train of thought out of her mind merely by burning the letter.

She threw it up into the air, her wand drawn out in an instant. _"Incendio."_

"Wendy?" Poppa spoke into the phone. "Ophelia's moved back -."

The brunette walked back over to the older wizard in the room. "Excuse me , Poppa." Ophelia reached over and pulled the phone away from her Poppa. "Mum, I can handle dinner tonight. Chicken pot pie sound alright?"

"That sounds fine, dear, but-er." Wendy's voice heavy with concern. "You feeling okay, Pipa?"

A soft grunt escaped out of Ophelia. "I'm not too sure, Mum."

"Do you want to talk about it when I get home?"

"No."

Wendy sighed but she accepted her daughter's answer and moved the subject along. "Well if you are going to make chicken pot pie, please don't over salt it."

"Yes, mum."

"Your father should be home shortly." Wendy Darwin stated over the phone. "Then I should be home roughly thirty minutes after that. Do you want anything from the shops-."

Gregory Darwin yanked the phone out of his granddaughter's grasp. "Could you pick up blancmange on the way home, please Wendy?"

Even as Ophelia roamed back down the kitchen, she could hear her mother scolding Poppa.

The familiar scents of the Darwin home gave a small comfort to Ophelia as the heat of shame and anger rolled off her shoulders. Ophelia loved how everything was just as she remembered: the kettle was on the stove as always, the spice rack in disarray, how her mother's oven mitts hung over the stove, most of all she appreciated how her family kept a full tin of coffee.

Ophelia fixed herself a hot cup of coffee after she pulled the chicken out and leaned into the pale blue walls of the kitchen. Her eyes scanned over to the fridge and from away she noticed something that she didn't even recognize up close.

"Poppa!" Ophelia yelled as she removed folded stack of articles from the fridge's surface. "Why do you have an American newspaper?"

"Why not, eh?" Poppa yelled back.

"Is it a Muggle newspaper?" Ophelia asked back.

"Read it and find out yourself!"

Ophelia took her cup of coffee and newspaper to the living room and settled into her father's recliner. The first page she opened up to was a classified ads and her brows rose up. _Help Wanted in New York?_

* * *

Margo Blaine Elwood was besides herself with stress. The baby was at her parents home for the night'; dinner was sorted: duck breast with apricot chutney with grilled asparagus and baked potatoes; three bottles of the champagne were brought up from the cellar; Peter was dressed; she was ready; and everything seemed decent.

Except for maybe the music selection-soft jazz probably wasn't the best choice as the guests flooded into the Elwood home. Everyone had a serious expression on their faces, the wives especially and it caused Margo to feel nervous in her own home...Still, Margo wasn't going to let her feelings get in the way of being a good hostess.

"Clara," Margo handed a champagne flute to Nott's wife. "What happened to your arm? Why is it all wrapped up?"

"I tripped." Clara answered back as smoothly as possible before she took a sip from her champagne glass.

Margo arched an eyebrow in curiosity at that answer. "You tripped and now have a completely broken arm? What did you trip over?"

"The stairs." Graham answered promptly for his wife. His tone was notably sour and he looked rather angry over all.

"Huh." Margo stepped away from the Notts and made her way to Peter. "Has Pipa showed up yet?"

Peter shook his head. "Maybe she's running late?"

Margo started to tap her foot. "No. Pipa is never late for my dinners-she knows how these things mean to me….She isn't coming."

"She'll come." Tom Riddle butted into their conversation.

"Let's give her a few more minutes before we start dinner off, then." Margo forced a strained smile at Tom. "I'll try and see if I pop over to her parents' home and get her." She scurried off the a little office on the first floor of her home.

Floo powder in Margo's perfectly manicured hands, she threw it down onto the fireplace as she stood in the center. "West Berkshire."

Nothing happened. No green flames came. Margo repeated the process and again nothing happened.

"You've been sealed off, honey." Delphina Malfoy commented as she watched Margo attempt a third time. "You won't be going to West Berkshire any time soon. Can't see why you want to-there's nothing Muggles all over there."

Margo stepped out of the fire place but said nothing to Delphina, instead Margo scrambled around for paper and something to write with. She could send an owl over to the Darwin residence, it would just have to be a very extremely fast owl.

"Margo, if I can be honest with you," Delphina started off as she watch the Elwood witch scurry around. "Ophelia Darwin never deserved to be your friend. We all heard how your best friend broke your brother's heart; missed the birth of your daughter; and isn't here for a lovely dinner you're hosting." Delphina then added. "Or think about how she never even considered to take the offer to come back to Hogwarts for seventh year. Did your so called friend ever ask you what you thought when she didn't take it?"

Margo stopped dead in her tracks and looked over to . "Excuse me? What?"

A smirk came over to Delphina's face. "Darwin never even told you about it?" She walked over to Margo and gave her a tight squeeze on the hand. "Look, you're an adult and making new friends can be hard but if you ever want anyone to talk to- a _real_ friend-I am here."

Dinner was served shortly there after. Conversation was fun and polite. Desert was a wonderful dark chocolate ganache tart. Clara Nott was particularly thrilled that Ophelia didn't show up-it spared Clara from having to apologize to the muggle born witch.

One guest remained quiet for the duration of the whole evening. Tom Riddle forced a smile, ate the food in front him, chimed in every now and again but he wasn't actively participating or leading the conversation. The heir of Slytherin expected a storm of anger to echo through him, because truth be told he was extremely angry.

Yet for some reason there was a small extremely misplaced feeling of hope lingering within him.

Not one incident to happen today made Lord Voldemort have any inkling of hope! _Unless I'm feeling someone else's emotions._ Tom thought to himself as tuned out the mindless chatter around him. He scoffed at the thought. _There is no known spell for that nonsense. None. No studies done, no records nothing. Simply does not exist._


End file.
